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THE GAY LORD QUEX 




Arthur W. P'mero. 

From a drawing by Rothenstein. 



THE 



Gay Lord Quex 

A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 



y 



Arthur W Pinero 

AUTHOR OF 

" Trelazvny of the Wells," " The Second Mrs. Tan- 
queray," " Sweet Lavender," " The Magistrate,'''' 
" The Squire," " Dandy Dick," <' Lady Boun- 
tiful," " The Profligate" " The Benefit of 
the Doubt," "The Hobby Horse," t( The 
Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith," '* The 
Princess and the Butterfly ," 
etc. , etc. 




R. H. RUSSELL 

i goo 



75848 

Library of Congress! 

Two Copies Received I 
NOV 15 1900 

Copyright entry 

SECOND COPY 
Delivered to 

ORDER DIVKI0N 

DEC 1 1900 



No 



.a \ 

Copyright, 1900, by 
ROBERT HOWARD RUSSELL 

All rights reserved 

Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England 



COPYRIGHT NOTICE AND WARNING 

This play is fully protected by the copyright law, all requirements of which 
have been complied with. In its present printed form it is dedicated to the reading 
public only, and no performances of it may be given without the written permission 
of Daniel Frohman, owner of the acting rights, who may be addressed in care of 
the publisher. 

The subjoined is an extract from the law relating to copyright : 
Sec. 4996. Any person publicly performing or representing any dramatic or 
musical composition for which a copyright has been obtained, without the consent 
of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition or his heirs or assigns, shall 
be liable for damages therefor, such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum 
not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent 
performance as to the Court shall appear just. If the unlawful performance and 
representation be wilful and not for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a 
misdemeanor, and upon conviction be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year. 




John Hare. 




The PERSONS of the PLAY 



The Marquess of Quex 

Sir Chichester Frayne (Governor of Uumbos, 
West Coast of Africa) 

Captain Bastling 

"Valma," otherwise Frank Pollitt (a Profes- 
sional Palmist) 

The Duchess of Strood 

Julia, Countess of Owbridge 

Mrs. Jack Eden 

Muriel Eden (her sister-in-law) 

Sophy Fullgarney (a Manicurist) 

Miss Moon 

Miss Huddle 

Miss Claridge 

Miss Limbird 

A Young Lady and other Patrons of Miss 
Fullgarney 

Servants at Fauncey Court 



(her assistants) 



o 




Tfo FIRST ACT Establishment of Sophy 

Fullgarney, Manicurist and 

Dispenser of Articles for 

the Toilet, 185 New Bond 

Street 

{Afternoon) 

The SECOND ACT At Lady Owbridge's. The 

" Italian Garden," Fauncey 
Court. Richmond 



The THIRD ACT 



(Evening) 

A Boudoir and Bedroom 
at Fauncey Court 

(Night) 

The FOURTH ACT In Bond Street Again 

(The following day) 

The action of the Play is comprised within the space 
of twenty-four hours 



rHTS play was first produced in England by 
John Hare at the Globe Theatre, London, on 
April 8, /&(?<?, and in America at the 
Criterion Theatre, New York, on November 12, igoo, 
Mr. Hare enacting the role of Quex. 




The FIRST ACT 




THE GAY LORD QUEX 



THE FIRST ACT 

The scene represents a manicure establishment in Nezv 
Bond Street. It is a front room upon the first floor 
with three french-windows affording a view of cer- 
tain buildings on the east side of the street. On the 
left, furthest from the spectator, is a wide, arched 
opening, apparently leading to another apartment, in 
which is the door giving entrance to the rooms from 
the staircase. Nearer, there is another french-win- 
doiv, opening on to an expanse of " leads " and shozv- 
ing the exterior of the zvall of the further room above- 
mentioned. From the right, above the middle 
■window, runs an ornamental partition, about nine feet 
in height, with panels of opaque glass. This partition 
extends more than half-way across the room, then 
runs forzvard for some distance, turns off at a sharp 
angle, and terminates betzveen the arched opening and 
the zvindozv on the left. That part of the partition 
running from right to left is closed on its left side and 
forms, therefore, a separate room or compartment. 
Facing the audience, on the right, is a door admit- 
ting to this compartment ; and, on the left, also in 
the partition opposite the windows on the right, is 
an opening with a looped-back portiere. The space 

[II] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

between this opening and the further room forms a 
narrow anteroom, containing articles of furniture 
visible through the opening. Mirrors are affixed to 
the right wall, between the lower and the middle win- 
dow and between the middle windoiv and the parti- 
tion, while on the left, between the window and the 
partition, is another mirror. A number of business 
cards are stuck in the frames of the mirrors. On the 
right, before each of the tzvo lozver zvindows, turned 
from the spectators, is a capacious arm-chair, made in 
cane open-work. Attached to the arms of these 
chairs are little screens — also made of cane — shield- 
ing, in a measure, the occupants of the chairs from 
observation. Upon both the right and left arms of 
these chairs are circular frames in cane, shaped to 
receive bozvls of water. Above each of the screen- 
chairs stands a smaller chair, set to face the larger 
one; and beside the small chair, on its right hand, is 
a lozv table upon which are arranged the instruments 
and toilet necessaries employed in the process of mani- 
cure. On the right, between the window and the par- 
tition, is a three-cornered what-not, on zvhich arc set 
out packets of soap and of pozvder and other articles 
of the toilet. At the further end of the room, in the 
centre, stands a desk laden with account-books; and, 
above the desk, its back against the partition, is a 
chair. On the right is a hat-and-umbrclla stand. 
Nearer, in the centre, is a large circular table on zvhich 
are displayed bottles of scent and liquid soap, cases 
of instruments for manicure, and some wooden bozvls 
of bath-soap with lather brushes. On the right and 
left are ordinary chairs. Placed against the parti- 
tion on the left, and facing the audience, is a cabinet, 
making a display similar to that upon the what-not. 
Nearer, on the left, there is another screen-choir set 
to face the audience; belozv it is a smaller seat and, 

[12] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

fry the side of the smaller seat, another little table with 
manicure tools, etc. Some framed photographs of 
ladies hang against the wood-work of the partition 
and in the' wall-spaces; and in the lower and middle 
windows, on the right, bird-cages are suspended. 
The light is that of a bright day in June. 

[On the right Miss Claridge and Miss Huddle 
arc in the final stages of manicuring two smart- 
looking men. The men occupy the screen- 
chairs; the manicurists — comely girls in black 
frocks — sit, facing the men, upon the smaller 
scats. On the left Miss Moon is rougeing 
and varnishing the nails of a fashionably- 
dressed young lady whose maid is seated at the 
table in the centre. Miss Limbird is at the 
desk, deep in accounts.] 

Miss Moon. 
[To the young lady.] You won't have them too red, 

will you? 

Young Lady. 

Not too red — nicely flushed. 

First Gentleman. 
[Examining his nails critically as he rises.] I say 
though, that's a vast improvement ! 

Miss Claridge. 
Getting more shapely, aren't they ? 

First Gentleman. 
Thanks awfully. 

[He pays Miss Limbird, stands talking to her 
for a while, and ultimately strolls away through 
the opening in the partition. After putting her 
table in order, Miss Claridge goes out the 
same way, carrying her bowl of water and 
towel.] 

[13] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Miss Moon. 
[To the young lady.] Have you had your hand read 
yet, madam, by any of these palmists ? 

Young Lady. 
Heavens, yes ! I've been twice to that woman Bernstein, 
and I don't know how often to Chiron. 

Miss Moon. 
Ah, you ought to try Valma. 

Young Lady. 
Valma ? 

Miss Moon. 
He's the latest. Ladies are flocking to him. 

Young Lady. 
Really ? 

Miss Moon. 
Yes. Such taking manners. 

Young Lady. 
Where does he ? 

Miss Moon, 
i 86 — next door. [Indicating the window on the left.] 
You can see his waiting-room from that window. 

Young Lady. 
Is he a guinea or half a guinea ? 

Miss Moon. 
Oh, he's a guinea. 

Young Lady. 
That's a bore. 

Miss Moon. 
Ah, but consider, madam — his rooms are draped from 
ceiling to floor in blue velvet. Blue velvet ! fancy ! Not 
that I've had the privilege of viewing them myself; Miss 
F. is our authority. 

Young Lady. 
Miss F. ? 

[14] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Miss Moon. 
I beg your pardon — Miss Fullgarney. Valma is quite 
neighborly with Miss Fullgarney. 

[A door-gong sounds — as it does every time any 
one enters or quits the establishment — signify- 
ing that the first gentleman has departed.] 

Second Gentleman. 
[Rising.] Much obliged. [Putting a tip into Miss 
Huddle's hand.] For yourself. 

Miss Huddle. 
Much obliged to you. 

Second Gentleman. 
You're a fresh face here? 

Miss Huddle. 
Yes ; I used to be with Mossu and Madame Roget in 
Mortimer Street. , 

Second Gentleman. 
I'll ask for you next time. What name? 

Miss Huddle. 
Miss Huddle. 

Second Gentleman. 
Huddle? 

Miss Huddle. 

Well, p'r'aps you'd better ask for Miss Hud-delle ; I 
fancy Miss Fullgarney is going to alter me to that. 

Second Gentleman. 
[With a nod.] Goo' bye. 

Miss Huddle. 
Good-day, sir. 

[He pays Miss Limbird and goes out. The 
maid rises and hands the young lady her 
gloves. ] 

[15] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Miss Moon. 
[Taking a card from the mirror.] Would you like a 
card of Valma's, madam, just to remind you? 

Young Lady. 

[Accepting the card and reading it.] " Valma. Palmist. 

Professor of the Sciences of Chiromancy and Chirognomy. 

1 86, New Bond Street." [Giving the card to her maid.] 

Keep that. [The door-gong sounds.] 

Miss Moon . 
[ Opening a window.] Look, madam. That's one of his 
rooms ; the window there — the open one 

Young Lady. 
Yes, I see. Thanks. Good morning. 

Miss Moon. 
Good morning. 

[The young lady pays Miss Limbird and goes, 
followed by her maid.] 

Miss Huddle. 
[To Miss Moon.] What time is it, dear? 

Miss Moon. 

[Putting her table in order.] Half-past one. Lunch 

time. 

Miss Huddle. 

Thought so ; I've sech a vacancy. 

[Miss Huddle goes out, carrying her bowl and 
towel, as Frank Pollitt — " Valma " — ap- 
pears at the window on the left — a well, if 
rather showily, dressed young fclloiv, wearing 
a frock coat, white waistcoat, and patent- 
leather boots. He is handsome in a common- 
place way and, though stilted and self-con- 
scious, earnest in speech and bearing.] 

Pollitt. , 

[Looking in.] Excuse me 

[16] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Miss Moon. 
[Startled.] Oh! oh, Mr. Valma! 

POLLITT. 

[Entering.] Is Miss Fullgarney in the way? 

Miss Moon. 
[Gazing at him in modest admiration.] She's with a 
lady in the private room, Mr. Valma. 

[The door in the partition opens. 

Sophy. 
[From the private room.] Oh, no, madam, I promise 
I won't forget. Certainly neft. I take too much interest in 
your daughter's nails for that. 

Miss Moon. 
This is her. 

[A middle-aged lady enters from the private 
room followed by Sophy Fullgarney. The 
customer pays at the desk while Sophy rattles 
on. Sophy is a pretty, elegant, innocently 
vulgar, fascinating young woman of six-and- 
twenty.] 

Sophy. 
[With the air of the proprietress of a prosperous estab- 
lishment.] Oh, yes, it did slip my memory to come on 
Thursday, didn't it? The truth is I had a most racking 
head, a thing I never have — well, I oughtn't to say never 
have, ought I? [To Miss Limbird.] Now, Miss Lim- 
bird, see that two pots of Creme de Mimosa are posted to 
Mrs. Arment, Carlos Place ; and book me, please — me — 
you thoroughly understand? — to attend upon Miss Ar- 
ment to-morrow evening at seven. [Accompanying the 
customer, zvho now withdraws.] To-morrow evening at 
seven — without fail. [Raising her voice.] The door, Miss 
Claridge. Good morning, madam. Good afternoon. 

[The door- gong sounds.] 

[17] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
Come, girls, you can get to your lunches. 

[Miss Limbird leaves her desk and goes out. 

Miss Moon. 
Here's Mr. Valma, Miss Fullgarney. 

S o r II y . 
[With a little gasp. ] Mr. Valma ! [Approaching him.] 
How do you do ? 

POLLITT. 

[Advancing.] Pardon me for the liberty I have taken 
in again crossing the leads. 

Sophy. 
[Looking away from him.] No liberty at all. 

P o L L I t t . 
I desire a few words with you, Miss Fullgarney, and 
it struck me that at this time of the day 

Sophy. 
Yes, there's nothing doing here just at lunch-time. 

POLLITT. 

Perhaps you would graciously allow me to converse with 

you while you 

Sophy. 

[Regaining her self-possession.] Oh, I had my lunch 
an hour ago; I came over so ravenous. [Going to Miss 
Moon, who is still lost in admiration of Pollitt — in a 
whisper.] Be off, child. Don't stand staring at Mr. 
Valma. 

Miss Moon. 

[In Sophy's ear.] I think I've got him another! 

Sophy. 
Shut up ! 

[Miss Moon withdraws, with her bozvl and 
tozvel.] 

[I8]" 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[To Pollitt.] Did you catch what she said? Oh, it 
doesn't matter if you did ; you know we are all working 
for you, like niggers. 

Pollitt. 
[ Tenderly. ] Ah ! 

Sophy. 
Not a customer leaves my place without having heard 
your name mentioned. My girls are regular bricks. 

Pollitt. 
[Approaching her.] And what are you? 

Sophy. 
[Looking away again.] Oh, I do no more than any of 
the others. 

Pollitt. 
Do you expect me to believe that? you, their queen! 
No, it is you who have helped me to steer my bark into 
the flowing waters of popularity. 

Sophy. 

[Nervously.] Extremely pleased, I — I'm sure. [He 

is close beside her; a cork is drawn loudly. They part, 

startled and disturbed. She goes to the opening in the 

partition, raising her voice slightly.] Girls, can't you 

draw your corks a shade quieter? Nice if somebody was 

coming upstairs ! 

Miss Limbird. 

[In the distance.] Very sorry, Miss Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 
[ To Pollitt, as she toys with the articles upon the cir- 
cular table.] Everything is so up this weather. It's their 
lime-juice champagne. 

Pollitt. 
[By her side again — suddenly.] I love you ! 

Sophy. 
Oh, Mr. Valma! 

[19] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

POLLITT. 

I love you ! Ever since I had the honor of being pre- 
sented to you by Mr. Salmon, the picture-dealer next door, 
I have thought of you, dreamt of you, constantly. [She 
brushes past him; he follows her.] Miss Fullgarney, you 
will accord me permission to pay you my addresses? 

Sophy. 
[In a flutter.] I — I am highly nattered and compli- 
mented, Mr. Valma, by your proposal 

POLLITT. 

[ Taking her hand. ] Flattered — no ! 

Sophy. 
[Withdrawing her hand.] Oh, but please wait ! 

POLLITT. 

Wait! 

Sophy. 
I mean, I certainly couldn't dream of accepting the at- 
tentions of any man until he fully understood 

POLLITT. 

Understood what? 

Sophy. 

[Summoning all her dignity.] Oh, I'll be perfectly 
straight with you — until he fully understood ?that, what- 
ever my station in life may be now, I have risen from 
rather — well, I may say very small beginnings. 

P o L L i tt . 
What matters that? 

Sophy. 
Oh, but I beg your pardon — it does. [Relaxing.] I am 
sure I can depend on you not to give me away all over 
the place? 

POLLITT. 

Miss Fullgarney ! 

[20] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[After a cautions glance round.] You know, Mr. Val- 
ma, I was always a self-willed, independent sort of a girl 
— a handful, they used to call me; and when father died 
I determined to have dori'e with my stepmother, and to 
come to London at any price. I was seventeen then. 

P o L L i tt . 
Yes? 

Sophy. 
Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of, really ; still, I did 
begin life in town [with an uneasy little laugh and a toss 
Of the head] — you'd hardly believe it ! — as a nursery-maid. 

POLLITT. 

H'm ! I am aware that is not considered 



Sophy. 
I should think not ! Oh, of course, in time I rose to be 
Useful Maid, and then Maid. I've been lady's-maid in 
some excellent houses. And when I got sick of maiding 
I went to Dundas's opposite, and served three years at the 
hairdressing ; that's an extremely refined position, I 
needn't say. And then some kind friends routed me out 
[surveying the room proudly] and put me into this. 

POLLITT. 

Then why bestow a second thought upon your begin- 
nings ? 

Sophy. 

No, I suppose I oughtn't to. Nobody can breathe a word 
against my respectability. All the same, I am quite aware 
that it mightn't be over-pleasant for a gentleman to re- 
member that his wife was once — [sitting in the screen- 
chair] well, a servant. 

P o L L ITT. 
[By her chair.] It would not weigh on my mind if you 
had been kitchen-maid [pointing out of the window] at 

[21] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Fletcher's Hotel. [Looking about him.] It's this busi- 
ness I don't care for. 

Sophy. 
This business ! 

P o L L i tt . 
For you. If you did no more than glide about your 
rooms, superintending your young ladies ! [Sitting, fac- 
ing her.] But I hate the idea of your sitting here, or there, 
holding some man's hand in yours ! 

Sophy. 
[Suddenly abiazt,.] Do you! [Pointing out of the 
ivindow.] Yet you sit there, day after day, and hold 
women's hands in yours ! 

P o L L i tt . 
[Eagerly.] You are jealous of me? 

Sophy. 
[Panting.] A little. 

POLLITT. 

[Going dozvn upon one knee.] Ah, you do love me! 

Sophy. 
[Faintly.] Fondly. 

P o L L I TT. 
And you will be my wife? 

Sophy. 
Yes. 

POLLITT. 

[Embracing her.] My dearest! 

Sophy. 
Not yet ! suppose the girls saw you ! 

POLLITT. 

Let all the world see us ! 

Sophy. 
[Submissively, laying her check upon his brow.] Oh, 
but I wish — and yet I don't wish 

[22] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

P O LLI TT . 

What? 

Sophy. 
That you were not so much my superior in every way. 

POLLITT. 

[In an altered voice.] Sophy. 

Sophy. 
[In a murmur, her eyes closed.] Eh-h-h? 

POLLITT. 

I have had my early struggles too. 

Sophy. 
You, love? 

POLLITT. 

Yes. If you should ever hear 

Sophy. 
Hear ? 

P O L L I TT . 

That until recently I was a solicitor's clerk— — 

Sophy. 
[Slightly surprised.] A solicitor's clerk? 

P O L L I TT . 

You would not turn against me? 

Sophy. 
Ah, as if ! 

P o L L I tt . 
You know my real name is Pollitt — Frank Toleman 
Pollitt ? 

Sophy. 
I've heard it isn't really Valma. [With a little shiver.] 
Never mind that. 

Pollitt. 
But I shall be Frank to you henceforth, shan't I? 
[23] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
Oh, no, no! always Valma to me — [dreamily] my 
Valrria. [Their lips meet in a prolonged kiss. Then the 
door-gong sounds.] Get up ! [ They rise in a hurry. She 
holds his hand tightly.] Wait and see who it is. Oh, don't 
go for a minute ! stay a minute ! 

[They separate; he stands looking out upon the 
leads. Miss Claridge enters, preceding the 
Marquess of Quex and Sir Chichester 
Frayne. Lord Quex is forty-eight, keen- 
faced, and bright-eyed, faultless in dress, in 
manner debonair and charming. Frayne is a 
genial wreck of about Hve-and-forty — the lean 
and shrivelled remnant of a once good-looking 
man. His face is ycllozv and puckered, his 
hair prematurely silvered, his mustache pal- 
pably touched-up.] 

Quex. 
[Perceiving Sophy and approaching her.] How are 
you, Miss Fullgarney ? 

Sophy. 
[Respectfully but icily.] Oh, how do you do, my lord? 
[Miss Claridge withdrazvs. Frayne comes for- 
ward, eyeing Sophy with interest.] 

Quex. 
My aunt — Lady Owbridge — has asked me to meet her 
here at two o'clock. Her ladyship is lunching at a tea- 
shop close by — bunning is a more fitting expression — with 
Mrs. Eden and Miss Eden. 

Sophy. 
[Gladly.] Miss Muriel ! 

Quex. 
Yes, I believe Miss Muriel will place her pretty finger- 
tips in your charge [partly to Frayne] while I escort 

[24] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Jack to view this new biblical 
picture — [with a gesture] a few doors up. What is the 
subject? — Moses in the Bulrushes. [To Frayne.] Come 
with us, Chick. 

Sophy. / 
It's not quite two, my lord ; if you like, you've just time 
to run in next door and have your palm read. 

Quex. 
My palm ? 

Sophy. 
By this extraordinary palmist everybody is talking about 

— Valma. 

Quex. 
[Pleasantly.] One of these fortune-telling fellows, eh? 
[Shaking his head.] I prefer the gipsy on Epsom race- 
course. 

Sophy. 
[Under her breath.] Oh, indeed! [Curtly.] Please 
take a seat. 

[She flounces up to the desk and busies herself 
there vindictively.] 

Frayne. 
[To Quex.] Who's that gal ? what's her name? 

Quex. 
Fullgarney ; a protegee of the Edens. Her father was 
bailiff to old Mr. Eden, at their place in Norfolk. 

Frayne. 
Rather alluring — eh, what? 

Quex. 
[Wincing.] Don't, Chick! 

Frayne. 
My dear Harry, it is perfectly proper, now that you are 
affianced to Miss Eden, and have reformed, all that sort 
of thing — it is perfectly proper that you should no longer 
observe pretty women too narrowly. 

[251 ' 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
Obviously. 

Frayne. 

But do bear in mind that your old friend is not so 
pledged. Recollect that / have been stuck for the last 
eight years, with intervals of leave, on the West Coast 
of Africa, nursing malaria 

Quex. 
[Severely.] Only malaria? 

Frayne. 
[Mournfully.] There is nothing else to nurse, dear 
Harry, on the West Coast of Africa. [Glancing at 
Sophy.] Yes, by gad, that gal is alluring! 

Quex. 
[Walking away.] Tssh ! you're a bad companion, 
Chick ! 

[He goes to the window and looks into the street. 
Frayne joins him. Sophy, seizing her op- 
portunity, conies dozvn to Pollitt.] 

Sophy. 
[To Pollitt.] Valma, dear, you see that man? 

Pollitt. 
Which of the two ? 

Sophy. 

The dark one. That's Lord Quex — the wickedest man 
in London. 

Pollitt. 
He looks it. [Jealously.] Have you ever cut his nails ? 

Sophy. 
No, love, no. Oh, I've heard such tales about him! 

Pollitt. 
What tales ? 

Sophy. 
I'll tell you [demurely] when we're married. And the 
worst of it is, he is engaged to Miss Eden. 

[26] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

POLLITT. 

Who is she ? 

Sophy. 

Miss Muriel Eden, my foster-sister ; the dearest friend 
I have in the world — except you, sweetheart. It was 
Muriel and her brother Jack who put me into this busi- 
ness. And now my darling is to be sacrificed to that gay 

old thing ! 

[The door-gong sounds; Quex turns expectantly.] 

P o L L I t t . 
If Miss Eden is your foster-sister 

Sophy. 
Yes, of course, she's six-and-twenty. But the poor girl 
has been worried into it by her sister-in-law, Mrs. Jack, 
whose one idea is Title and Position. Title and Position 
with that old rake by her side ! 

[Miss Limbird -enters, preceding Captain 
Bastling — a smart, soldierly-looking man of 
about cight-and-tzventy. Miss Limbird re- 
turns to her scat at the desk.] 

Sophy. 
[Seeing Bastling.] My gracious ! 

P O L L I TT . 

What's the matter ? 

Quex. 

[Recognizing Bastling and greeting him.] Hallo, 

Napier ! how are you ? 

Bastling. 
[Shaking hands with Quex.] Hallo, Quex! 

Quex. 
What are you doing here ? 

Sophy. 
[To Pollitt.] Phew ! I hope to goodness Lord Quex 
won't tumble to anything. 

[27] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

POLLITT. 

Tumble — to what? 

[Quex introduces Bastling to Frayne.] 

Sophy. 
You don't understand ; it's Captain Bastling — the man 
Muriel is really fond of. 

P o L LI tt . 
What, while she's engaged ? 

Sophy. 
[With clenched hands.] Yes, and she shall marry him 
too, my darling shall, if I can help to bring it about. 

POLLITT. 

You? 
i Sophy. 

Bless 'em, I don't know how they'd contrive without me ! 

POLLITT. 

Contrive ? 

Sophy. 

[Fondly.] You old stupid! whenever Muriel is com- 
ing to be manicured she sends Captain Bastling a warning 
overnight [squeezing Pollitt's arm, roguishly] ; this 
kind of thing — " My heart is heavy and my nails are long. 
To-morrow — three-thirty." Ha, ha, ha ! 

POLLITT. 

Dearest, let me advise you 

Sophy. 
[Her hand upon his tips.] Ah, don't lecture! [Bast- 
ling saunters forward to attract Sophy's attention.] 

Oh ! [To Pollitt, hurriedly.] Go now. Pop in 

again by-and-by. [Caressingly.] Um-m-m! my love! 
[Pollitt goes out by the window.] 

Sophy. 
[Joining Bastling — formally.] Good-day, Captain 
Bastling. 

[28] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Bastling. 
Good-afternoon, Miss Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 
[Dropping her voice] She'll be here in a minute. 

Bastling. 
[In low tones — making a show of examining the arti- 
cles on the circular table.] Yes, I had a note from her this 
morning. [Glancing at Quex.] Confounded nui- 



sance ! 

Sophy. 

[Pretending to display the articles.] It's all right ; he's 
got to take Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Jack Eden to look 

at Moses in the Bulrushes— a picture 

Bastling. 

Sophy — I've bad news. 

Sophy. 

No! what? 

Bastling. 

My regiment is ordered to Hong-Kong. 

Sophy. 
Great heavens ! when are you off ? 

Bastling. 
In a fortnight. 

Sophy. 

Oh, my poor darling ! 

Bastling. 
I must see her again to-morrow. I've something serious 

to propose to her. 

Sophy. 
[Half in eagerness, half in fright.] Have you? 

Bastling. 
But to-morrow it must be alone, Sophy; I can't say 
what I have to say in a few hasty whispers, with all your 
girls flitting about — and perhaps a customer or two here. 
Alone ! 

[29] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
Without me? 

Bastling. 
Surely you can trust us. To-morrow at twelve. You'll 
manage it ? 

Sophy. 
How can I — alone? 

Bastling. 
You're our only friend. Think ! 

Sophy. 
[Glancing suddenly toward the left.] Valma's rooms! 
[Frayne has wandered to the back of the circu- 
lar table, and, through his eyeglass, is again 
observing Sophy. Quex now joins him,] 
Bastling. 
[Perceiving them — to Sophy.] Look out! 

Sophy. 
[Taking a bottle from his hand — raising her voice.] 
You'll receive the perfume in the course of the afternoon. 
[Replacing the bottle upon the table.] Shall I do your 
nails? 

Bastling. 
Thanks. 

[They move away. He takes liis place in the 
screen-chair; she sits facing him. During the 
process of manicuring they talk together ear- 
nestly. ] 

Frayne. 
[Eyeing Sophy.] Slim but shapely. Slim but shapely. 
[Miss Moon enters, with a bowl of water. Hav- 
ing adjusted the bowl upon the arm of the 
screen-chair, she retires.] 
Frayne. 
There's another of 'em. Plain. [Watching Miss Moon 
as she goes out] I don't know — rather alluring. [Find- 
ing Quex by his side.] Beg your pardon. 

[ 30 ] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U EX . 

Didn't hear you. 

Frayne. 

Glad of it. At the same time, old friend, you will for- 
give me for remarking that a man's virtuous resolutions 
must be — ha, ha ! — somewhat feeble, hey ? — when he 
flinches at the mere admiration of beauty on the part of a 
pal, connoisseur though that pal undoubtedly is. 

Quex. 
Oh, my dear Chick, my resolutions are firm enough. 

Frayne. 
■[Dubiously.] H'm! 

Quex. 
And my prudery is consistent with the most laudable in- 
tentions, I assure you. But the fact is, dear chap, I go in 
fear and trembling 

Frayne. 
Ah! 

Quex. 
No, no, not for my strength of mind — fear lest any 
trivial act of mine, however guileless ; the most innocent 
glance in the direction of a decent-looking woman ; should 
be misinterpreted by the good ladies in whose hands I have 
placed myself — especially Aunt Julia. You remember 
Lady Owbridge? 

Frayne. 
Why did you intrust yourself ? 

Quex. 
My one chance! [Taking Frayne to the tabic, against 
which they both lean shoulder to shoulder — his voice fall- 
ing into a strain of tenderness.] Chick, when I fell in love 

with Miss Eden 

Frayne. 
[In sentimental retrospection.] Fell in love! what 
memories are awakened by the dear old phrase ! 

[3i] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
[Dryly.] Yes. Will you talk about your love-affairs, 

Chick, or shall I ? 

Frayne. 
Certainly — you. Go on, Harry. 

Quex. 
When I proposed marriage to Miss Eden — it was at the 
hunt-ball at Stanridge 

Frayne. 
■[His eyes sparkling.] Did you select a retired corner 
— with flowers — by any chance? 

Quex. 
There were flowers. 

Frayne. 
I know — / know ! Nearly twenty years ago, and the 
faint scent of the Gardenia Florida remains in my nostrils ! 

Quex. 
Quite so. Would yon like to ? 



Frayne. 
[Sitting.} No, no — you. Excuse me. You go on. 

Quex. 
[Sitting on the edge of the table, looking doivn upon 
Frayne.] When I proposed to Miss Eden I was certain 
— even while I was stammering it out — I was certain that 
my infernal evil character 

Frayne. 
Ah, yes. I've always been a dooced deal more artful 
than you, Harry, over my little amours. [Chuckling.] 
Ha, ha ! devilish cunning ! 

Quex. 
And I was right. Her first words were, " Think of 
your life ; how can you ask this of me? " — her first words 

[32] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

and her last, that evening. I was desperate, Chick, for 
I well, I'm hit, you know. 

Frayne. 
What did you do ? 

Quex. 
Came to town by the first train in the morning — drove 
straight off to Richmond, to my pious aunt. Found her 
in bed with asthma ; / got her up. And I almost went 
down on my knees to her, Chick. 

Frayne. 
Not really ? 

Quex. 

I did — old man as I am! no, I'm not old. 

Frayne. 
Forty-eight. Ha, ha! I'm only forty-five. 

Quex. 
But you've had malaria 

Frayne. 
Dry up, Harry! 

Quex. 
So we're quits. Well, down on my marrow-bones I 
went, metaphorically, and there and then I made my vows 
to old Aunt Julia, and craved her help ; and she dropped 
tears on me, Chick, like a mother. And the result was 
that within a month I became engaged to Miss Eden. 

Frayne. 
The young lady soon waived her 

Quex. 
[Getting off the table.] I beg your pardon — the young 
lady did nothing of the kind. But with Aunt Julia's aid 
I showed 'em all that it was a genuine case of done with 
the old life — a real, genuine instance. [Balancing upon 
the back of the chair.} I've sold my house in Norfolk 
Street. 

[33] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Frayne. 
You'll want one. 

Quex. 
[Gravely.] Not that one — for Muriel. [Brightly.] 
And I'm living sedately at Richmond, under Aunt Julia's 
wing. Muriel is staying at Fauncey Court too just now ; 
she's up from Norfolk for the Season, chaperoned by Mrs. 
Jack. [Sitting, nursing his knee, with a sigh of content.] 
Ah ! after all, it's very pleasant to be a good boy. 

Frayne. 
When is it to take place? 

Quex. 
At the end of the year ; assuming, of course 

Frayne. 
That you continue to behave prettily? [Quex assents, 
with a wave of the hand.] The slightest lapse on your 

part ? 

Quex. 
Impossible. 

Frayne. 

But it would ? 

Quex. 
[A little impatiently.] Naturally. 

Frayne. 

Well, six months pass quickly — everywhere but on the 

West Coast of Africa. 

Quex. 

And then — you shall be my best man, Chick, if you're 

still home. 

Frayne. 

[Rising.] Hah! I never thought 

Quex. 
[Rising.] No; I who always laughed at marriage as 
a dull depravity permitted to the respectable classes ! I 
who always maintained that man's whole duty to woman 

[34] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

— meaning his mistresses — that a man's duty to a woman 
is liberally discharged when he has made a settlement on 
her, or stuck her into his Will ! [Blowing the ideas from 
him.] Phugh! 

[He goes to the little table, and examines the ob- 
jects upon it.] 

Frayne. 
•[Following him.] Talking of — ah — mistresses, I sup- 
pose you've ? 

Q u e x . 
Oh, yes, they're all 



Frayne. 
Made happy and comfortable ? 

Quex. 
I've done my utmost. 

Frayne. 
Mrs. ? 

Quex. 
[Rather irritably.] I say, all of them. 

Frayne. 
No trouble with Lady ? 

Quex. 
No, no, no, no. 

Frayne. 

What about the little Duchess? [Quex pauses in his 

examination of a nail-clipper.] Eh? 

Quex. 
[Turning to him, slightly embarrassed.] Odd that you 
should mention her. 

Frayne. 
Why? 

Quex. 
She's staying at Fauncey Court also. 

[35] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

F R A Y N E . 

The Duchess ! 

Q u EX. 

She proposed herself for a visit. I dared not raise any 
objection, for her reputation's sake ; the ladies would have 
suspected at once. You're one of the few, Chick, who 
ever got an inkling of that business. 

F R A Y N E . 

Very awkward ! 

Q u e x . 
No. She's behaving admirably. [Thoughtfully — with 
a wry face] Of course she was always a little romantic 
and sentimental. 

Frayne. 
By gad though, what an alluring woman ! 

Quex. 
[Shortly.] Perhaps. 

Frayne. 
Ho, come ! you don't mean to tell me ? 



Quex. 
[With dignity.] Yes, I do — upon my honor, I've for- 
gotten. [ The door-gong sounds. ] This must be the ladies. 
[Muriel Eden enters, follozvcd by Miss Cla- 
ridge. Muriel is a tall, fresh-looking, girl- 
ish young woman, prettily dressed. Sophy 
rises and meets her.] 

Muriel. 
[Behind the circular table — to Sophy, breathlessly, as 
if from the exertion of running upstairs.] Well, Sophy! 

[Looking round.] Is Lord Quex ? [Sophy glances 

tozvard Quex, zvho advances.] Oh, yes. [To Quex.] 
Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Jack won't fag upstairs just 
now. They're waiting for you in the carriage, they asked 
me to say. 

[36] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
[In tender solicitation.] Moses in the Bulrushes? You 
still elect to have your nails cut ? 

Muriel. 
Thanks, I [with an effort] — I've already seen the pict- 
ure. 

Quex. 
And its merits are not sufficient ? 

Muriel. 
[Guiltily.] I thought the bulrushes rather well clone. 

Quex. 
May I present my old friend, Sir Chichester Frayne ? 

Muriel. 
[To Frayne.] How do you do? 

Quex. 
[To Frayne] Will you come, Chick ? [To Muriel.] 
We shall be back very soon. 

[Muriel nods to Quex and Frayne and turns 
away to the window, removing her gloves. 
Sophy joins her.] 

Frayne. 
[To Quex.] As I suspected— the typical, creamy Eng- 
lish girl. We all do it ! we all come to that, sooner or later. 

Quex. 
[Looking from Muriel to Frayne, proudly.] Well 



Frayne. 
[In answer, kissing his finger-tips to the air.] Allur- 
ing! 

Quex. 
Ha! [Hastily.] We're keeping the ladies waiting. 

[He goes out. Frayne is following Quex, when 

[37] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

he encounters Miss Claridge. He pauses, gazing at her 
admiringly. The door-gong sounds.] 

Miss Claridge. 
[Surprised.] Do you wish anything, sir? 

F R A Y n e . 
[ With a little sigh of longing. ] Ah — h ! 

Miss Claridge. 
[Coldly.] Shall I cut your nails? 

F R A Y n e . 
[W of idly.] That's it, dear young- lady — you can't ! 

Miss Claridge. 
[With hauteur.] Reely ! Why not, sir? 

F R A Y n e . 
I regret to say I bite 'em. 

[He goes out. Miss Claridge titters loudly to 
Miss Li m bird.] 

Sophy. 
[To Miss Claridge, reprovingly.] Miss Claridge! I 
don't require you at present. 

[Miss Claridge withdraws.] 

Sophy. 
[Going to Miss Limbird.] Miss Limbird, will you 
oblige me? hot water, please. 

[Miss Limbird goes out. At once Sophy gives 
a signal to Bastling and Muriel, and keeps 
guard. Bastling and Muriel talk in low, 
hurried tones.] 

Bastling. 

[On the right of the circular table.] How are you? 
[38] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
[On the other side, giving him her hand across the 
table.] I don't know. [Withdrawing her hand.] I hate 
myself ! 

Bastling. 
Hate yourself? 

Muriel. 
For this sort of thing. [Glancing round apprehen- 
sively. ] Oh ! 

Bastling. 
Don't be frightened. Sophy's there. 

Muriel. 
I'm nervous — shaky. When I wrote to you last night 
I thought I should be able to sneak up to town this morn- 
ing only with a maid. And you've met Quex too! 

Bastling. 
None of them suspect ? 

Muriel. 
No. Oh, but go now ! 

Bastling. 
Already! may I not sit and watch you? 

Muriel. 
Not to-day. 

Bastling. 
You must hear my news, then, from Sophy ; she'll tell 

you 

Muriel. 
News? 

Sophy. 
[ Turning to them sharply. ] Hsst ! 

Muriel. 
Good-by ! 

Bastling. 
[Grasping her arm.] Haven't you one loving little 
speech for me ? 

[39] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[Behind the table.] Gar — r — rh ! 

[He releases Muriel and picks up a large 
wooden bowl of bath-soap, just as Miss Lim- 
bird re-enters with the hot water. Muriel 
moves away, hastily.] 

Sophy. 
[To Bastling, taking the soap from him — raising her 
voice.] Thank you — much obliged. [Transferring the 
soap to Miss Limbird and relieving her of the bowl of 
water.] For Captain Bastling, with a bottle of Fleur de 
Lilas. 

[Miss Limbird returns to her desk; Sophy de- 
posits the bowl of luatcr upon the arm of the 
screen-chair; Bastling fetches his hat, and 
gives some directions to Miss Limbird.] 

Muriel. 
[To Sophy, in a whisper.] Sophy, these extravagances 
on his part ! I am the cause of them 1 ! he is not in the least 
well off ! 

Sophy. 
Don't worry ; it's all booked. Ha, ha ! bless him, he'll 
never get his account from me! [Bastling, with a part- 
ing glance in the direction of Muriel and Sophy, goes 
out.] He's gone. 

[Miss Limbird also goes out, carrying the bozvl 
of bath-soap.] 

Muriel. 
[ With a sigh of relief. ] Oh ! 

Sophy. 
[Coming to her.] We're by ourselves for a minute. 
Give me a good hug. [Embracing her.] My dear! my 
darling! ha, ha, ha! you shall be the first to hear of it 
— I'm engaged. 

[40] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
Sophy ! to whom ? 

Sophy. 
To Mr. Valma, the great palmist. 

Muriel. 
What, the young man you've talked to me about — next 
door? [Kissing her.] I hope you are doing well for your- 
self, dear. 

Sophy. 
He's simply perfect ! he's — ! oh, how can I be such 

a brute, talking of my own happiness ! [In an al-^j, 

tered tone] Darling, Captain Bastling's regiment is going 
to be sent off to Hong-Kong. 

Muriel. 
[After a pause — commanding herself.] When? 

Sophy. 
In about a fortnight. 

Muriel. 
[Frigidly.] Is this what you had to tell me, from him? 

Sophy. 
Yes, and that he must see you to-morrow, alone. I'll 
arrange it. Can you manage to be here at twelve ? 

Muriel. 
I daresay, somehow. 

Sophy. 
[Looking at her in surprise.] I thought you'd be more 
upset. 

Muriel. 
[Taking Sophy's hand.] The truth is, Sophy — I'm 
glad. 

Sophy. 
Glad! 

Muriel. 
Awfully glad the chance has come of putting an end 
to all this. Oh, I've been treating him shockingly ! 

[4i] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
Him? 

Muriel. 
Lord Quex. 

Sophy. 
[Impatiently.] Oh! pooh! 

Muriel. 
[Leaving Sophy.] Yes, after to-morrow he sha'n't find 
me looking a guilty fool whenever he speaks to me — by 
Jove, he sha'n't ! I believe he guessed I haven't seen Moses 
in the Bulrushes ! 

Sophy. 
But, dear, how do you know what Captain Bastling 
means to say to you to-morrow ? 

Muriel. 
[Pausing in her walk. ] To say ? — good-by. 

Sophy. 
Suppose he asks you to put him out of his misery — 
marry him directly, on the quiet? 

Muriel. 
[A little unsteadily.] Then I shall tell him finally — 
my word is given to Lord Quex. 

Sophy. 
[Coming to her again.] Given! — wrung out of you. 
And just for that you'll lose the chance of being happy — 

all your life — with the man you 

[She turns away, and sits, on the right of the cir- 
cular table, blozving her nose.] 

Muriel. 
[At Sophy's side, desperately.] But I tell you, Sophy, 
I love Lord Quex. 

Sophy. 
You may tell me. 

[42] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Muriel. 
I do — I mean, I'm getting to. [Defiantly.] At any rate, 
I am proud of him. 

Sophy. 
Proud ! 

Muriel. 

Certainly — proud that he has mended his ways for my 

sake. 

Sophy. 

[Between tears and anger.] Mended his ways! with 
those eyes of his ! 

Muriel. 

[Looking down upon Sophy, wonderingly.] His eyes? 
why, they are considered his best feature. 

Sophy. 
/ never saw wickeder eyes. All my girls say the same. 

Muriel. 
[With rising indignation.] I am sure you have never 
detected Lord Quex looking at anybody in a way he should 

not. 

Sophy. 

Oh, I admit he has always behaved in a gentlemanly 
manner toward me and my girls. 

Muriel. 

[Haughtily.] Toward you and your ! Sophy, pray 

remember Lord Quex's rank. 

Sophy. 
[In hot scorn,] His rank ! ha! do you think his lord- 
ship has ever let that interfere ? 

[She checks herself, finding Muriel staring at 
her.] 

Muriel. 
[In horror.] Sophy! 

[ 43 1 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[Discomposed — rising.] Er — if I'm to do anything to 

your nails 

[As Sophy is moving tozuard the manicure-table, 
Muriel intercepts her.] 

Muriel. 
You are surely not suggesting that Lord Quex has ever 

descended ? 

Sophy. 
[Hastily.] No, no, no. [Brushing past Muriel and 
seating herself before the screen-chair.] Come; they'll 
all be here directly. 

Muriel. 
[Sitting in the screen-chair.] Sophy, you have heard 

some story 

Sophy. 
[Examining Muriel's hands.] A little varnishing is 
all you need to-day. 

Muriel. 
You shall tell me ! 

Sophy. 
[Proceeding with her work methodically.] It's noth- 
ing much ; I'm sorry I 

Muriel. 
[Imperatively.] Sophy! 

Sophy. 
[Reluctantly.] Oh, well — well, when I was at Mrs. 
Beaupoint's in Grosvenor Street 

Muriel. 
Yes? 

Sophy. 
A Lady Pumphrey came to stay there with a goodish- 
looking maid — Edith Smith her name was 

Muriel. 
Never mind her name ! 

[44] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 

And they'd lately met Lord Quex in a country-house in 

Worcestershire. Well, he had kissed her — Smith admitted 

it. 

Muriel. 

Kissed whom — Lady Pumphrey? 

Sophy. 
Oh, of course he'd kissed Lady Pumphrey ; but he kissed 
Smith afterward, when he tipped her. She told me what 

he said. 

Muriel. 
What did he say ? 

Sophy. 
He said, " There's a little something for yourself, my 

girl." 

Muriel. 
[Starting to her feet and zvalking azvay.] My heavens ! 
a Maid ! what next am I to hear — his blanchisseusef 
[Sinking into a chair.] Oh! oh, dear! 

Sophy. 
[Turning in her chair to face Muriel.] It's one thing 
I always meant to keep to myself. 

Muriel. 
[Bitterly.] Still, I have promised to forgive him for so 
much already ! And, after all, this occurred a long while 

ago. 

Sophy. 
[Thoughtfully.'] Ye — e — es. I suppose if you did find 
him up to anything of that sort nota, you'd — what would 

you do ? 

Muriel. 
Do! [With all her heart.] Marry Napier Bastling. 

Sophy. 
[Rising — a mischievous light in her eyes.] Ah — ! I 
almost wish it would happen ! 

[45] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
Sophy ! 

Sophy. 
[Leaning against the edge of the circular table, grip- 
ping Muriel's hand.] Just for your sake, darling. [In 
a lozv voice.] I almost wish I could come across him in 
some quiet little shady spot 

Muriel. 
[Looking up at Sophy, horrified.] What! 

Sophy. 
In one of those greeny nooks you've told me of, at 
Fauncey Court. [Between her teeth.] If he ever tried 
to kiss me, and I told you of it, you'd take my word for 
it, wouldn't you ? 

Muriel. 
[Starting to her feet.] For shame! how dare you let 
such an idea enter your head? you, a respectable girl, just 

engaged yourself ! 

Sophy. 
[With a quick look toward the window.] Oh, yes! 
hush! [Clapping her hand to her mouth.] Oh, what 
would Valma say if he knew I'd talked in this style ! 

[The door-gong sounds.] 

Muriel. 
Here they are. 

Sophy. 
[As they hastily return to their chairs.] Darling, I was 
only thinking of you and the poor Captain. [With an- 
other glance toward the window.] Phew! if my Valma 
knew! 

[They resume their seats, and the manicuring 

is continued.] 
[Miss Limbird enters, preceding Lord Quex 
and the Countess of Owbridge, Mrs. Jack 
Eden, and Frayne. Miss Moon follows. 

[46] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Lady Ovvbridge is a very old lady in a mouse-colored 
wig, with a pale, anxious face, watery eyes, 
and no eyebrows. Mrs. Eden is an ultra- 
fashionably-drcssed woman of about thirty, 
shrill and manicre.] 

Q u ex . 
[To Lady Owbridge, who is upon his arm.] Yes, a 
curious phase of modern life. Many people come to these 
places for rest. 

Lady Owbridge. 
[Looking about her shrink in gly.] For rest, Henry? 

Quex. 
Certainly. I know a woman — I knew a woman who 
used to declare that her sole repose during the Season was 
the half-hour with the manicurist. 

Mrs. Eden. 
How are you, Sophy? 

Sophy. 
How are you to-day, Mrs. Eden? 

Mrs. Eden. 
Lady Owbridge, this is Miss Fullgarney, whom you've 
heard about. 

[Sophy rises, makes a bob, and sits again.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
[Seated.] I hope you're quite well, my dear. 

Sophy. 
[Busy over Muriel's nails.] Thanks, my lady ; I hope 
you're the same. 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Sitting.] What is your opinion of the picture, Lady 
Owbridge ? 

Lady Owbridge. 
[Not hearing.] Eh? 

[47] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U EX . 

Moses in the Bulrushes — what d'ye think of it ? 

Lady Owbridge. 
[Tearfully.] They treat such subjects nowadays with 
too little reverence. 

F R A Y n e . 
[Thoughtlessly.] Too much Pharaoh's daughter and 
too little Moses. 

Q u e x . 
[Frowning him down.] Phsst! 

Mrs. Eden. 
Certainly the handmaidens remind one of the young 
ladies in the ballet at the Empire. 

Lady Owbridge. 
The Empire? 

Mrs. Eden. 
[ Checking herself. ] Oh ! 

Quex. 
Popular place of entertainment. 

Lady Owbridge. 
Ah? The only place of that kind I have visited for 
some years is the Imperial Institute. 

[Mrs. Eden rises, laughing to herself, and joins 
Sophy and Muriel. Frayne is now estab- 
lishing cordial relations between himself and 
Miss Moon.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[To Sophy.] Well, Sophy, and how's your business, 
getting along? 

Lady Owbridge. 
[To Quex, after ascertaining that Frayne is not near 
her.] Oh, Henry, I have asked Sir Chichester to drive 
down to us to-night, to dine. 

[48] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U EX . 

[Watching Frayne with apprehension.] Ah, yes, de- 
lightful. [Trying to gain Frayne' s attention — warn- 
ingly.] Phsst! phsst! 

Lady O w b r i d g e . 
[Plucking at Quex's coat.] I feel that Sir Chichester 
is a very wholesome friend for you, Henry. 

Q u e x . 
Very. Phsst ! 

Lady Owbridge. 
What is the name of the West African place?— Uum- 
bos — Uumbos seems to have improved him vastly. 

Quex. 
[In a low voice.] Chichester ! 

Lady Owbridge. 
And it is our wish that you should associate for the 
future only with gray-haired men. 

[Miss Moon now withdraws, zvith Frayne at 
her heels.] 

Muriel. 
[Rising and coming to Lady Owbridge.] I'm ready, 
dear Lady Owbridge. Look ! you can see your face in 
them. 

[Lady Owbridge rises; Muriel displays her 
nails. Lady Owbridge shakes her head 
gravely, while Quex bends over Muriel's 
hands gallantly.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[To Sophy.] My hands need trimming-up desperately 
badly. That maid of mine is a fool at fingers. 

Sophy. 
Can't you stay now ? 

[49] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Mrs. Eden. 
[With an impatient movement of the head toward Lady 
Owbridge.] Oh, lord, no. [Suddenly.] I say, I wish 
you'd run down to Richmond, to Fauncey Court, and do 

me. Could you? 

Sophy. 
[Innocently.] Oh, yes. 

Mrs. Eden. 
To-night, before dinner ? 

Sophy. 
I think I can. 

Mrs. Eden. 
[To Lady Owbridge.] Lady Owbridge, Miss Fullgar- 
ney is coming down to Richmond this evening to manicure 
me. Do, do, do let her give your nails the fashionable cut. 
[Going to Quex and Muriel.] Everybody is wearing 
pointed nails this Season. 

Lady Owbridge. 
[Advancing to Sophy.] Ah, no, no. These practices 
are somewhat shocking to an old woman. [To Sophy.] 
But I don't blame you. [Laying her hand upon Sophy's 
arm, kindly.] So you're Miss Eden's foster-sister, eh? 

Sophy. 
I've that honor, my lady. 

Lady Owbridge. 
You look a little thin. Come clown to Fauncey Court 
to-day as soon as your duties will release you. Spend as 
many hours there as you can. 

Sophy. 
Oh, my lady! 

Lady Owbridge. 
Run about the grounds — go wherever you please ; and 
get the air into your lungs. [With gracious formality.] 
Remember, I invite you. 

[50] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 






Muriel. 
[Innocently.] How good of you, Lady Owbridge ! 

Sophy. 
Thank you, my lady. 

[Frayne returns — accompanied by Miss Moon, 
who carries a neat package — and settles an 
account with Miss Limbird at the desk.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
[To Sophy.] You shall be well looked after. 

[She shakes hands zvith Frayne.] 

Muriel. 
[Kissing Sophy.] We shall meet by-and-by. 

Lady Owbridge. 

Muriel — young people 

[Muriel joins Lady Owbridge; they go out 
together.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Nodding to Sophy.] This evening, Sophy. 

Sophy. 
[In a flutter of simple pleasure.] Yes, Mrs. Eden. 

Mrs. Eden. 

[Shaking hands zvith Frayne.] Till dinner 

[She goes out.] 
Q u e x . 
[To Sophy.] Good-by, Miss Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 
[Tripping across the room.] Good-day, my lord. 

Q u e x . 
[Joining Frayne.] Are you coming, Chick? 

[51] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

F R A Y N E . 

[Taking the parcel from Miss Moon — and turning to 
Quex, rather bitterly.] I say, that gal has made me buy 
something I don't want. They stick you here fright- 
fully 

Quex. 

Ha, ha, ha, ha ! [ They go out together. ] 

Sophy. 
[Adjusting her hair at the mirror.] Come, girls! look 
alive! no more work for me to-day! I'm off home to 
change my frock. I've got an invite down to Richmond. 
My hat and coat ! 

[The door-gong sounds. Miss Moon disappears 
at the door in the partition. Miss Huddle en- 
ters.] 

Sophy. 
Miss Hud-delle, please run next door, and ask Mr. Val- 
ma to step this way for a moment. 

Miss Huddle. 
He's on the leads, Miss Fullgarney, smoking a cigarette. 

Sophy. 
[Running across to the itrindow.] Get my bag of tools 
ready ! sharp ! [Miss Huddle and Miss Limbird go out; 
Sophy opens the window and calls.] Valma ! Valma ! 

Valma ! 

[Miss Moon returns with Sophy's hat, coat, 
gloves, and umbrella.] 

Miss Moon. 
Your things, Miss Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 

[Taking them from her.] Send for a hansom — a smart 

one. 

[Miss Moon runs out as Valma enters at the 

window.] 

[52] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
[Breathlessly.) Valma — Valmalove! I've got an in- 
vite down to Richmond — Lady Owbridge — she's asked 
me specially ! I'm going home to my place to smarten- 
up. Isn't it jolly ? [In an outburst.] Oh, love, you might 
give-up for to-day, and take me down ! 

Valma. 
May I? 

Sophy. 
May you ! Your hat — get your hat ! you'll find me out- 
side in a cab. [He hurries azvay.] 
[Miss Limbird, carrying a leather bag, enters, 
follozved by Miss Claridge and Miss Hud- 
dle.] 

Sophy. 
[As she, with the aid of her girls, pins on her hat and 
scrambles into her coat.] You know, girls, many a silly 
person's head would be turned at being asked to a place 
like Fauncey Court — as a guest, bear in mind. But there, 
the houses I've been in ! — it's nothing to me. Still, speci- 
ally invited by the Countess of Owbridge herself — ! 
[Putting her feet in turn upon a chair and hitching up 
her stockings.] I shall just make rather a favor of mani- 
curing Mrs. Jack. One doesn't go visiting to cut Mrs. 
Jack's claws. Gloves ! Thank goodness, the evenings are 
long! they say it's simply heavenly at Fauncey Court — 

simply heaven [She breaks off abruptly, staring 

straight before her. Under her breath.] Oh — ! Faun- 
cey Court — Lord Quex ! 

Miss Claridge. 
What's the matter, Miss Fullgarney? 

Sophy. 
N — n — nothing. 

Miss Moon. 
[Entering.] Cab, Miss Fullgarney! 

[53] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Sophy. 
[In an altered voice.] Bag. [She takes her bag from 
Miss Limbird and walks away, rather slowly, with her 
head down. Quietly, without turning.] See you in the 
morning, girls. 

The Four Girls. 

Good-afternoon, Miss Fullgarney. 

[Sophy goes out.] 



END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



[54] 




THE SECOND ACT 



The scene represents a portion of an English garden laid 
out in Italian fashion. At the extreme back — upon 
ground slightly raised — two dense cypress hedges, 
about sixteen feet high, form an alley running from 
right to left. In the centre of the hedge which is 
nearer the spectator there is an opening, and at this 
opening are three or four steps connecting the higher 
with the lozver level. Beyond the alley nothing is 
seen but the sky and some tree-tops. In advance is 
an enclosure formed by a dwarf cypress-hedge, about 
four feet in height, also broken in the centre by an 
opening, and running off right and left at a sharp 
angle. On the outside of the dwarf hedge is a walk; 
and beyond, on the right and left, are trees. Within 
the enclosure, on the left, is a small fountain; facing 
the fountain, on the right, a piece of .,d, broken 
sculpture. Other bits of antique sculpture are placed 
in different parts of the garden. In the foreground, 
on the right toward the centre, stands a stone bench, 
on the left of which is a table upon zvhich are the re- 
mains of " afternoon tea," with a garden-chair. A 
similar stone bench stands opposite. 

[55] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

The light is that of a very tine evening. 

[Lady Owbridge is in the garden-chair asleep, 
an open book in her lap. Quex and Muriel 
stand, talking together, by the fountain. On 
the right-hand stone bench the Duchess of 
Strood and Mrs. Eden are seated. The 
Duchess is a daintily beautiful doll of about 
seven-and-thirty — a poseuse, outwardly digni- 
fied and stately when upon her guard, really 
a frail, shallow little creature full of extrava- 
gant sentimentality. Until Lady Owbridge 
wakes, the conversation is carried on in sub- 
dued tones.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Indicating Muriel and Quex.] They make a fasci- 
nating couple, don't they, Duchess? 

Duchess. 
[With placid melancholy.] To see two people on the 
threshold of wedlock is always painfully interesting. 

Mrs. Eden. 
I am quite triumphant about it. It is such a delightful 
engagement, now that the horrid difficulties are smoothed 
away. 

Duchess. 
Yes, you were telling me of some sad obstacles 

Mrs. Eden. 
I nearly perished of them! [Very confidentially.] 
There's no doubt, you know, that his past has been excep- 
tionally naughty. 

Duchess. 
Really ? Ah ! don't be surprised that I am not more 
deeply shocked. In these surroundings it is hard to realize 
that every aspect of life is not as lovely as [pointing 
to the foliage] — the tones of those exquisite, deep greens, 
for example. 

[56] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Mrs. Eden. 
However, the dear thing is going to be so good in the 
future. [Turning to the Duchess.] I keep forgetting 
— Lord Quex is a very old friend of yours ? 

Duchess. 
[Serenely.] An acquaintance of many years' standing. 
But since his Grace has been an invalid we have lived 
much abroad, or in seclusion, and gossip has not reached 
us. Alas, you find me a ready subject a dcsillusionner ! 
[Rising.] We are in the sun. Shall we walk? 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Sympathetically, as they walk.] Is his Grace still very 
unwell ? 

Duchess. 
[Smiling sadly upon Mrs. Eden.] He is still over 
seventy. 

[They wander azvay, through the trees, as Quex 
and Muriel leave the fountain.] 

Quex. 
[With tender playfulness, first glancing at the sleeping 
Lady Owbridge.] And so all these good things are to 
befall me after to-morrow? 

Muriel. 
[In a lozv voice.] After to-morrow. 

Quex. 
When I approach, I shall no longer see you skim away 
into the far vista of these alleys, or shrink back into the 
shadows of the corridors [prosaically] — after to-morrow. 

Muriel. 
No — not after to-morrow. 

Quex. 
In place of a cold word, a chilling phrase, a warm one — 
after to-morrow. 

[57] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
I am going to try. 

Q u e x . 

If I touch your hand, you'll not slip it behind your back 

in a hurry [touching her hand] — ? 

Muriel. 
[Withdrawing it.] Not after to-morrow. 

[She sits; he stands behind the stone bench, 
leaning over the back of it. ] 

Quex. 
But why, may I ask, is this bliss reserved till after to- 
morrow? 

Muriel. 
I had rather you did not ask me, Quex. 

Quex. 

No? I see, I am a day too soon in putting even that 
little question. 

Muriel. 
Ah, I'll tell you this — I am going to turn over a new 
leaf, after to-morrow. 

Quex. 
You ! your pages are all milk-white. What can you 
detect upon one of them to induce you to turn it ? 

Muriel. 
[Gazing into space.] I — I've been scribbling there — 
scrawling — drawing pictures 

Quex. 
Pictures — of what? 

Muriel. 
You shall know, perhaps, some day. 

Quex. 
After to-morrow? 

[58] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
Yes, Quex, but — after many to-morrows. 

[Tzuo men-servants — an old man and a young 
one — descend the steps and proceed to remove 
the tea-things.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
[ Waking. ] Eh — ? [Seeing Muriel and Quex.] Ah, 
my dears — ! I am reading such an absorbing book. 

Muriel. 
[By her side, taking the book.] May I — ? 

Lady Owbridge. 
You should study the Dean of St. Olpherts' sermons — 
and you, Henry. 

Quex. 
[ Taking the book from Muriel and turning its pages. ] 
Yes, I must — I must 

Lady Owbridge. 
By the way, has anything been seen of that nice young 
manicure girl, Miss Sophy — something — ? 

Muriel. 
Sophy Fullgarney — she arrived at about half-past four, 
and I asked Mrs. Gregory to show her over the house. 
I thought you would not object. 

Lady Owbridge. 
Object ! it pleases me. 

Muriel. 
She is roving about the grounds now. 

Lady Owbridge. 
An exceedingly prepossessing young woman, of her 
class. 

[The servants have gone up the steps, carrying 
the tea-things.] 

[59] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

The Elder Servant. 
[Looking down the alley toward the left.] I see the 
young person, my lady. 

Lady Owbridge. 
I'll speak to her, Bristow. 

[ The elder servant goes off toward the left; the 
younger one, bearing the tray, to the right. 
The Duchess and Mrs. Eden return, above 
the low cypress hedge; Quex meets them.] 

Muriel. 
I would not have left her, but the young man she is 
engaged to brought her down, and I took it upon myself 
to give him permission to remain. 

Lady Owbridge. 
Oh, is Miss Fullgarney engaged? 

Muriel. 
To Mr. Valma, the palmist. 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Approaching.] Valma, the palmist! 

Lady Owbridge. 
What is a palmist, pray? 

Muriel. 
He reads your past and your future in the lines of your 
hands. It's his profession, dear Lady Owbridge. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Oh, do let us have him into the drawing-room after 
dinner ! I hear he is simply charming. 

Lady Owbridge. 
Charming! [Rising.] What are our ladies coming to ! 
Dear, dear me ! in my day such follies and superstitions 
were entirely restricted to the kitchen. 

[Muriel joins the Duchess. Quex is dutifully 
[60] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

looking into the book of sermons. The ser- 
vant returns, followed by Sophy, and then re- 
tires; Sophy comes forward, beamingly. 
She is prettily dressed, but in sober colors.] 

Sophy. 
[To Lady Owbridge.] Here I am, my lady. I'm hav- 
ing such a good time ! 

Lady Owbridge. 
That's right. 

Sophy. 
Oh, this garden ! they may well call it heavenly. 

Lady Owbridge. 
They ought not to call it that, my dear. But it is in- 
deed full of earthly solace. 

Sophy. 
It must be. And what a place for a bicycle ! 

Muriel. 
[Reprovingly.] Bicycles are not allowed to enter these 
grounds, Sophy. 

Sophy. 
[Sobered.] Oh ! 

Lady Owbridge. 

Miss Eden tells me you are accompanied by the young 
man to whom you are engaged to be married. 

Sophy. 
I hope I haven't taken too great a liberty 

Lady Owbridge. 
[Looking round.] I don't see him. 

Sophy. 
He has run back to the station. I've just found out 
I left my bag in the fly that brought us here. So stupid 
of me! 

[61] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Lady O w b r i d g e . 
Mrs. Gregory will give you, both, dinner. 

Sophy. 
Thank you, my lady. 

[The Duchess is now seated in the garden- 
chair. The younger of the two servants en- 
ters, carrying Sophy's bag and the evening 
papers.] 

Servant. 
[Handing the bag to Sophy.] The cabman has 
brought your bag back, miss. 

Sophy. 
There now! Much obliged. [To Mrs. Eden.] Poor 
Mr. Valma will have his tramp for nothing, won't he? 
[Sophy and Mrs. Eden talk together.] 

Lady Ow bridge. 
The evening papers, Morgan ? 

Servant. 
[Who has laid the papers upon the table.] Yes, my 
lady. [The servant retires.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
So late ? we must go in and dress. 

Duchess. 
[Who has been occupied in observing Ouex.] I'll fol- 
low you, dear Lady Owbridge. 

[Lady Owbridge moves away and is joined by 
Mrs. Eden.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[As she ascends the steps with Lady Owbridge.] 
Sophy, I shall be ready for you in a quarter of an hour. 

Sophy. 
All right, Mrs. Eden. 

[Lady Owbridge and Mrs. Eden disappear.] 
[62] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
[Crossing to Sophy.] Wouldn't you like to walk to 
the gates to meet Mr. Valma? 

Sophy. 
Thanks, dear, I think I would. 

Muriel. 
I can show you a nearer way than by going back to 
the house. [Pointing into the distance] Follow this 
hedge and take the second alley — not the first — on your 

left. When you reach the big fountain 

[Quex, still dipping into the sermons, has come 
down to the back of the table. He nozv throws 
the book upon the table and picks up a news- 
paper.] 

Quex. 
I beg your pardon, Duchess — I didn't see you. 

Duchess. 
[In a whisper.] Harry 

Quex. 
[Startled.] Eh? 

Duchess. 
I will hurry into my gown and return. Be here in a 
quarter of an hour. 

Quex. 
May I ask — the reason? 

Duchess. 
[A newspaper in her hand — talking to him, in under- 
tones, over the top of it.] For a week, only the merest 
commonplaces have passed between us. I must relieve 
my heart ; it is bursting ! 

Quex. 
I entreat you to consider my position. 

[6 3 J 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Duchess. 
Yours! have / no reputation to endanger? [Rising — 
laying the paper aside.] What a pitiably small request! 
you will grant it? 

Quex. 
If you could see your way to excuse me 

Duchess. 
In memory of the past — ! I demand it ! 

Quex. 
[With a stiff bozv.] Oh — oh, certainly. 

Duchess. 
[Leaving him.] Thank you. 

Quex. 
[ To himself. ] Damn ! 

[He turns on his heel and walks away.] 

Duchess. 
[Joining Muriel.] You are coming to dress? 

Muriel. 
[After smiling assent, presenting Sophy.] Miss Full- 
garney was my first playmate, Duchess. 

Duchess. 
[Looking upon Sophy graciously.] Ah? [To Mu- 
riel.] The souvenirs of childhood are sweet, are they 
not? 

[She slips her arm through Muriel's, and they 
ascend the steps and go azuay together. 
Sophy comes to the stone bench on the left, 
upon which she deposits her bag. She opens 
the bag, produces a little mirror and a comb, 
and puts her " fringe " in order — humming 
as she docs so an air from the latest comic 
opera. Then she returns the comb and mirror 
to the bag, and — bag in hand — prepares to 
depart. While this is going on Quex returns, 

[64] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

above the low hedge. He ascends the steps and looks off 
into the distance, watching the retreating figure 
of the Duchess. After a moment or two he 
shrugs his shoulders in a perplexed, troubled 
way, and, coming down the steps, encounters 
Sophy.] 

Sophy. 
[Innocently.] Lovely evening, my lord. 

Q u e x . 
[Passing her, with a nod and a smile.] Very — very. 

[At the table, he exchanges the newspaper he 
carries for another. She is going in the direc- 
tion indicated by Muriel. Suddenly' she 
pauses, above the dwarf cypress hedge, and 
stands looking at Quex with an expression 
in which fear and determination are mingled. 
Having selected his newspaper, Quex crosses 
to the left and sits, reading.] 

Sophy. 
[Coming to him.] I don't think I shall go, after all. 

Quex. 
[Lowering his paper.] Eh? 

Sophy. 
I was just starting off down to the gates, you know, 
to meet Mr. Valma. 

Quex. 
[ With amiable indifference. ] Oh ? 

Sophy. 
[Her head upon one side, smiling.] But it's too hot 
for walking, isn't it? 

Quex. 
[Resuming his reading.] It is warm. 

[65] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[Putting her bag upon the table and removing her 
gloves.] Phew ! 

[She eyes him askance, undecided as to a plan 
of action. He lowers his paper again, dis- 
concerting her.] 

Quex. 
You don't feel you ought to go and meet your — Mr. 
Valma ? 

Sophy. . 
[Edging toward him.] I might miss him — mightn't I? 

Quex. 
Certainly — you might. 

Sophy. 
Besides, it wouldn't ddj for me to attend upon Mrs. Jack 
— Mrs. Eden — all puffing and towzelled ; [archly] now, 
would it? 

Quex. 
[Resuming his reading.] You're the best judge. 

Sophy. 
So I've a quarter of an hour to fill in somehow. [A 
pause.] I've a quarter of an hour to fill in somehow. 

Quex. 
[Behind his paper, beginning to be extremely bored.] 
Indeed? 

Sophy. 
[Quaking.] I — I wish there were some quiet little 
shady places to ramble about in, here at Fauncey Court. 

Quex. 
There are several. 

Sophy. 
Are there? . . . are there? 

Quex. 
[Turning his paper.] Oh, yes, a great many. 
[66] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
You see, I'm a stranger 

Q u e x . 
[Kindly.] Well, you run along; you'll find 'em. [She 
walks away slowly, baffled. He glances at her over his 
paper, slightly puzzled.] Have you seen the grotto? 

Sophy. 
[ Turning sharply. ] No. 

Q u e x . 
[Pointing toward the right.] It's in that direction. 

Sophy. 
Grotto? Dark, I suppose, and lonelyish? 

Q u e x . 
You said you desired shade and quiet. 

Sophy. 
Yes, but not darkness. Fancy me in a grotto all by 
myself ... by myself . . . ! 

Q u ex . 
[Behind his paper again.] I'm afraid I have no further 
suggestion to offer. 

[There is another pause; then her face lights 
up, and she comes down to him szviftly.] 

Sophy. 
[Close to him.] Show me your nails, my lord. 

Quex. 
[Lowering his paper.] My nails? 

Sophy. 
[Taking his hand and examining it.] Excuse me. Oh, 
my lord, for shame ! 

Quex. 
You take exception to them? 

[67] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
This is hacking, not cutting. You ought never to be 
allowed within a mile of a pair of scissors. 

Q u e x . 
[Looking at his other hand.] Oh, come! they're 
hardly as bad as all that. 

Sophy. 
[Examining that hand also.] Ha, ha, ha! 

Quex. 
[Rising, somewhat abashed.] Ha! I confess I am a 
little unskilful at such operations. 

Sophy. 
No gentleman should trust to himself where his nails 
are concerned. Why, a man's hand has lost him a young 
lady's affections before this ! I've heard of heaps of cases 
where matches have been broken off 

Quex. 
[Putting his hands behind him, smiling.] Really? 
the results of manicuring are more far-reaching than I 
had imagined. 

Sophy. 
You, see, my lord, when a man's courting he is free 
to look his young lady in the face for as long as he 
chooses ; it's considered proper and attentive. But the 
girl is expected to drop her eyes, and then — what has 
she to look at? Why, a well-trimmed hand or an ugly 
one. [Taking off her rings.] Now then, I'll do wonders 
for you in ten minutes. 

Quex. 
Thank you ; I am not going indoors just yet. 

Sophy. 
No need to go indoors. [Depositing her rings upon 
the table and opening her bag.] I've got my bag here, 
with all my tools — see ! 

[68] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U E X . 

Ah, but I won't trouble you this evening. Another 

occasion 

Sophy. 
[Arranging her manicure instruments, etc., upon the 
table.] No trouble at all, my lord — quite an honor. [In- 
dicating the stone bench.] Please sit down there. [Pro- 
ducing a little brass bowl.] Water ? 

[She runs to the fountain and fills her bowl 
from its basin.] 

Q u e x . 
[Crossing, hesitatingly, to the right — looking at his 
nails and speaking in a formal manner.] You have been 
bidden to Fauncey Court for rest and relaxation, Miss 
Fullgarney ; it is most obliging of you to allow your 
pleasure to be disturbed in this way. 

Sophy. 
[Returning to him.] Oh, don't say that, my lord. 
[Putting the bozvl on the table and dragging the garden- 
chair forzvard to face him.] Business is a pleasure, some- 
times. 

[Her close proximity to him forces him back 
upon the bench.] 

Q u ex . 
[Seated — stiffly.] You must, at least, let me open an 
account at your excellent establishment. 

Sophy. 
Not I. [Seated — taking his right hand.] One may 
work occasionally for love, I should hope? [archly] ha, 
ha! just for love, eh? 

Q u e x . 

[Uncomfortably.] No, no, I couldn't permit it — I 
couldn't permit it. 

[6 9 ] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[Holding his hand almost caressingly.] Well, well! 
we'll see — we'll see. [She clips his nails briskly and 
methodically. While she does so she again hums a song, 
looking up at him at intervals enticingly, under her lashes. 
Breaking off in her song.] My goodness ! what a smooth, 
young hand you have ! 

Q u e x . 
[His discomfort increasing.] Er — indeed? 

Sophy. 

Many a man of six-and-twenty would be glad to own 
such hands, I can tell you. [Patting his hand reprov- 
ingly.] Keep still! [It is now his turn to hum a song, 
which he docs, under his breath, to disguise his embar- 
rassment. She looks up at him.] But, then, you're an 
awfully young man for your age, in every way, aren't 
you? 

Quex. 

[Gazing at the sky.] Oh, I don't know about that. 

Sophy. 
[Slyly.] You do know. [Wagging her head at him.] 
You do know. 

Quex. 
[Relaxing slightly.] It may be so, of course, without 
one's being conscious of it. 

Sophy. 
May be so ! ah, ha ! not conscious of it ! ho ! [Slap- 
ping his hand again, soundly.] Artful! 

Quex. 
[Flattered and amused.] No, no, I assure you ! ha, ha ! 
[They laugh together. His constraint gradu- 
ally diminishes. After shaking some liquid 
soap from a bottle into the bowl, she places 
the bozvl beside him on the bench.] 

[70] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
[While doing this.] My young ladies at a-hundred- 
and-eighty-five all agree with me about you. 

Quex. 
Do they ? 

Sophy. 
Yes, do they ! 

Quex. 
Your young ladies ? 

Sophy. 
My girls. 

Quex. 
Ha, ha, ha ! And what terrible pronouncement has 
a-hundred-and-eighty-five to pass upon me? 

Sophy. 
Seven-and-thirty, you look — not a day older ; that's 
what we say. There, dip your fingers in that, do ! 

Quex. 
Into this? 

Sophy. 
[Thrusting his fingers into the bozvi] Baby! [The 
water splashes over her dress and his coat.] Oh! 

Quex. 
I beg your pardon. 

Sophy. 
Now what have you done? [Wiping the water from 
his coat. ] You clumsy boy ! 

Quex. 
Thanks, thanks. 

[She commences operations upon his left hand. 
He is nozv thoroughly entertained by her free- 
dom and audacity.] 

Sophy. 
Ha, ha ! do you know what / maintain ? 

[7i] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
[Laughing.] Upon my word, I dread to think. 

Sophy. 
Why, that every man who looks younger than his years 
should be watched by the police. 

Quex. 
Good heavens, Sophy — Miss Fullgarney! 

Sophy. 
Yes — as a dangerous person. 

Quex. 
Dangerous ! ho, come ! 

Sophy. 
[With the suggestion of a wink.] Dangerous. The 
man who is younger than he ought to be is always no 
better than he should be. 

Quex. 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Sophy. 
Am I right? am I right, eh? [Putting her cheek near 
his lips — speaking in a lozv voice, breathlessly, her eyes 
averted.] Tell me whether I'm right, my lord. 

[For the first time, a suspicion of her designs 
crosses his mind. He drazvs back slowly, 
eying her. There is a pause.] 

Quex. 
[In an altered tone, but keeping her in play.] Ha, ha, 
ha, ha! [Looking at his watch.] I — I am afraid I shall 
have to run away to dress for dinner very soon. 

Sophy. 
[Resuming her work, disappointed.] Not yet; you've 
plenty of time. But there, dangerous or not dangerous, 
in my heart I can't help holding with what my lady-cus- 
tomers are continually saying. 

[72] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U EX . 

[Watching her keenly.] No? and what are your lady- 
customers continually saying? 

Sophy. 
Why, that the young fellows of the day are such con- 
ceited, apish creatures ; no man under forty-five is worth 
wasting a minute's time over. 

Quex. 
Ho! they say that, your lady-customers? 

Sophy. 
Yes ; and they're good judges, they are. 

Quex. 
Good judges ! none better — none better. 

Sophy. 
[Laying her clipper aside suddenly, and putting her 
hand to her eyes with a cry of pain.] Oh ! 

Quex. 
[Coolly.] What's the matter? 

Sophy. 
[Rising.] A little splinter has flown into my eye. It 
often happens. 

Quex. 
[Rising.] Extremely painful, I expect? 

Sophy. 
[Producing her handkerchief.] Very. [Giving him 
her handkerchief.] Do you think you could find it? 

Quex. 
Certainly, if it's to be found. 

Sophy. 
[Holding the lapels of his coat, her head almost upon 
his shoulder, her eyes closed.] Ah! please make haste 
and look for it ! 

[73] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Q U EX. 

Right or left ? 

Sophy. 
The ri— the left. 

Q u e x . 

[Sharply.] Raise your head. Stand up. 

Sophy. 
[Releasing his coat and raising her head.] Eh? 

Quex. 
[Sternly.] Open your eyes. Both of them. [She 
opens her eyes and stares at him. He returns her hand- 
kerchief.] There! I have removed the splinter. [She 
slowly backs away like a zvhippcd child. He follows her.] 
Miss Fullgarney, I understand you are engaged to be 
married — to this young man, Valma ? 

Sophy. 
[Tremblingly.] Yes, my lord. 

Quex. 
Do you care for him? 

Sophy. 
[Faintly.] Yes. 

Quex. 
In love with him? 

Sophy. 
Oh, yes, my lord, indeed. 

Quex. 
And yet you still flirt? 

Sophy. 
Y— es. 

Quex. 
Take my advice — be satisfied with the kisses your 
sweetheart gives you. Don't try to get them from other 
men, old or young. 

Sophy. 
No — no 

[74] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U EX . 

[Sternly, but kindly.] You little fool! 
[Pollitt enters, wearing a tall hat and lemon-colored 
gloves.] 

Pollitt. 
[Jealously.] Sophy! [Qxjex zualks away.] 

Sophy. 
[Falteringly.] The fly-man brought back the bag, 
Valma dear. 

Pollitt. 
I am aware of that. [Lozvering his voice.] What are 
you doing here with Lord Quex? 

Sophy. 
I — I've been manicuring him. 
[The Younger Servant comes dozvn the steps.] 

Servant. 
[To Sophy.] Mrs. Eden is quite ready for you, miss. 
[She hurriedly replaces her manicure instru- 
ments, etc., in the bag, hands the bowl to 
the Servant, and, without looking at Pol- 
litt or Quex, goes swiftly up the steps and 
disappears. The Servant follows her, car- 
rying the bozvl.] 

Pollitt. 
[To Quex.] Excuse me, my lord 



Quex. 
[Coming forward, and picking up his newspaper.] 
Eh? 

Pollitt. 

That young lady and I are engaged to be married. 

Quex. 
Mr. — Valma? 

[75] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

POLLITT. 

Yes, my lord. [Hotly.] And I very much object to 
her manicuring gentlemen. 

Quex. 
[Dryly.] Well, there you have a little something to 
discuss at home — before, and, perhaps, after marriage. 

P o L L i tt . 
I consider the custom of ladies manicuring gentlemen 
one that may occasionally lead to undue familiarity, my 
lord. 

Quex. 
I am inclined to agree with you, sir. 

POLLITT. 

And I shall do all I can to persuade Miss Fullgarney 
to relinquish active participation in the business. 

Quex. 
The palmistry profession is a flourishing one at present, 
eh, Mr. Valma ? 

P o L L i tt . 
[Loftily.] My engagement-book is always full. I 
have disappointed several ladies by coming here this af- 
ternoon. 

Quex. 
Poor women ! Nevertheless, pray be careful how you 
slight the manicure trade. Crazes die, you know — nails 
grow. 

P o L LI tt . 
[Tapping his breast.] I think we have come to stay, 
my lord. 

Quex. 
[Lightly.] Well, you're sailing pretty close to the 
wind, remember, you fellows. 

P o L L i tt . 
My lord ! 

[76] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U E X . 

[Replacing his newspaper upon the table.] And if 
some day you should find yourselves in the police-court, 
alongside a poor old woman whose hand has been crossed 

with a threepenny-bit down an area 

[The Duchess appears on the further side of 
the lozv cypress hedge. She is dressed for 
dinner. The sky is now faintly rosy, and 
during the ensuing scene it deepens into a rich 
sunset.] 

Q u e x . 
We are going to have a flaming sunset, Duchess. 

Duchess. 
Superb. 

P o L L i tt . 
[Haughtily.] I wish you good-evening, my lord. 

Q u e x . 
Oh, good-evening, Mr. Valma. [To himself.] Im- 
pudent beggar ! 

[Pollitt walks away. After watching his go- 
ing, the Duchess comes eagerly forward.] 
Duchess. 
[Her hand upon her heart.] Oh! I am here, Harry! 

Quex. 
[In delicate protest.] Ah, my dear Duchess! 

Duchess. 
Fortunately I have been able to dress quickly without 
exciting curiosity. My maid was summoned away this 
afternoon, to her father who is sick. [Sinking on to the 
bench.] Still, these risks are considerable enough. 
Quex. 
And yet you deliberately court them ! 

Duchess. 
Great passions involve great dangers. The history of 
the world shows that. 

[77 1 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U E X . 

But why now — now that circumstances are altered be- 
tween us? why, on earth, do you play these hazardous 
tricks now? 

Duchess. 

I was determined to meet, to know, the girl with whom 
you are about to ranger yourself, Harry. 

Quex. 

Even that could have been arrived at in some safer 
way. 

Duchess. 

Ah, but you fail to see ; it was the daring of this pro- 
ceeding that attracted me — the romance of it ! 

Quex. 
[Raising his hands.] Romance! still! 

Duchess. 
Always. It is the very blood in my veins. It keeps me 
young. I shall die a romantic girl, however old I may be. 

Quex. 

You ought, you really ought, to have flourished in the 
Middle Ages. 

Duchess. 

You have frequently made that observation. [Rising.] 
I do live in the Middle Ages, in my imagination. I live 
in every age in which Love was not a cool, level emotion, 
but a fierce, all-conquering flame — a flame that grew in 
the heart of a woman, that of a sudden spread through 
her whole organism, that lit up her eyes with a light more 
refulgent than the light of sun or moon ! [Laying her 
hand upon his arm.] Oh, oh, this poor, thin, modern 
sentiment miscalled Love ! 

Quex. 

[Edging azv ay.] Sssh ! pray be careful ! 
[78] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
Ah, yes. But, dear Harry, I cannot endure the ordeal 
any longer. 

Quex. 
The ordeal? 

Duchess. 
The prolonged discomfort, to which I have subjected 
myself, of watching your wooing of Miss Eden. I must 
go- 

Quex. 
[With ill-concealed relief.] Go! leave us? 

Duchess. 
I recognize how fitting it is that you should bring your 
wild, irregular career to a close ; but after to-morrow 
I shall cease to be a spectator of these preliminaries. 

Quex. 
[His eyes sparkling.] After to-morrow! 

Duchess. 
Yes, I rejoin poor dear Strood on Friday. True, he 
has four nurses — he always had four nurses, if you re- 
member ? 

Quex. 
[Sympathetically.] Three or four. 

Duchess. 
But then, nurses are but nurses. [Nobly.] I must 
not forget that I am a wife, Harry. 

Quex. 
No, no — you mustn't forget that. 

Duchess. 
[Gazing into his eyes.] And so, between you and me 
[placing her hands upon his shoulders], it is over. 

. Quex. 
[Promptly.] Over. 

[79] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
Finally, irrevocably over. 

Quex. 
[Freeing himself.] Absolutely over. [Taking her 
hand and bowing over it solemnly.] Done with. 

[He walks away.] 
Duchess. 
[Moving slowly.] That is — almost over. 

Quex. 
[Turning sharply.] Almost? 

Duchess. 
We have yet to say good-by, you know. 

Quex. 
[Returning to her, apprehensively.] We — we have 
said good-by. 

Duchess. 
Ah, no, no ! 

Quex. 

[Again bowing over her hand — with simulated feel- 
ing.] Good-by. 

Duchess. 
[Looking round.] What! here? 

Quex. 
[Humoring her.] This romantic old garden! [point- 
ing to the statuary] these silent witnesses — beholders, it 
is likely, of many similar scenes ! the — the — setting sun ! 
Could any situation be more appropriate ? 

Duchess. 
But we are liable to be interrupted at any moment. The 
joint romance of our lives, Harry, ought not to end with 
a curt word and formal hand-shake in an exposed spot 
of this kind. [Sitting in the garden-chair.] Oh, it can- 
not, must not, end so! 

[80] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
[Eying her uneasily.] Frankly, I see nothing else 
for it. 

Duchess. 
I can't credit it. Why, what was the second reason 
for my coming here? 

Quex. 
Second reason? 

Duchess. 
That our parting might be in keeping with our great 
attachment ! 

Quex. 
Impossible. 

Duchess. 
Impracticable ? 

Quex. 

In every way, impossible. 

Duchess. 
[Taking his hand.] Oh, don't say that, dear Harry! 
Ah, the auguries tell me that what I ask will be. 

Quex. 
[Omitting, in his anxiety, to withdraw his hand.] The 
auguries ? 

Duchess. 
Fate — coincidence — call it what you please — fore- 
shadows one more meeting between us. 

Quex. 
Coincidence ? 

Duchess. 
[Intensely, in a lozv voice.] Harry, do you remember 
a particular evening at Stockholm ? 

Quex. 
[Hazily.] Stockholm? 

[81] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Duchess. 
That evening upon which we discovered how much 
our society meant to each other ! 

Quex. 
[Vaguely, while he hastily recovers possession of his 
hand.] At Stockholm was it ? 

Duchess. 

You were sailing with us in the Baltic — you must 
recollect ? Our yacht had put in at Stockholm ; we had 
come to the Grand Hotel. Strood had retired, and you 
and I were sitting out upon the balcony watching the 
lights of the cafe on the Norrbro and the tiny steamboats 
that stole to and fro across the harbor. Surely you recol- 
lect? 

Quex. 

Yes, yes, of course. 

Duchess. 
Well, do you remember the brand of the champagne 
you sipped while you and I sat smoking? 

Quex. 
Good Lord, no! 

Duchess. 
" Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or." You remarked that it 
was a brand unknown to you. Have you ever met it 
since, Harry? 

Quex. 
Not that I 

Duchess. 
Nor I till last night, at dinner. [Impressively.] It is 
in this very house. 

Quex. 
[With a slight shrug of the shoulders.] Extremely 
probable. 

[82] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
And do you remember how I was clad, that evening at 
Stockholm ? 

Q u ex . 
I am afraid I don't. 

Duchess. 
Coulcur de rose gamie de vert. I have just such an- 
other garment with me. 

Q U E X . 

Really ? 

Duchess. 
Do you remember in what month we were at Stock- 
holm ? 

Q u ex . 
No. 

Duchess. 
June — this month. Nor the day of the week? 

Q u e x . 
It must be ten years ago ! 

Duchess. 
Wednesday. There stands the record in my diary. 

Quex. 
Diary ! good heavens, you are not so indiscreet ! 

Duchess. 
No, no — only the words, " warm evening." Yes, it 
was upon a Wednesday. What is to-day? 

Quex. 
Wednesday. 

Duchess. 
[7?Asm£.] Harry, I want to see you sipping that brand 
of champagne once more, while you and I sit facing one 
another, silently, dreamily smoking Argyropulos. 

Quex. 
[Negatively.'] Duchess 

[83] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
To end as we began ! you have not the heart to refuse ? 

Q u e x . 



Duchess. 
You do refuse? 

Q u ex . 
I do. 

[She passes him, and again sinks upon the 
bench. ] 

Duchess. 
[Her back toward him, her shoulders heaving.'] Oh! 
oh! 

Quex. 
I — I am profoundly sorry to be obliged to speak to you 
in this fashion. 

Duchess. 
Oh, then I cannot go on Friday ! 

Quex. 
Not! 

Duchess. 
No! no! no! 

Quex. 
Believe me, it would be better for you, for me, for 

everybody 

Duchess. 
I cannot ! [Producing a diminutive lace handker- 
chief.] In the first shock of the news of your engage- 
ment — for it was a shock — one thought consoled me ; 
throughout the time that has elapsed since then I have fed 
upon this same thought — there will be a parting in keep- 
ing with our great attachment ! And now, you would 
rob me even of that ! 

Quex. 
But — but — but — a solemn, deliberate leave-taking! the 
ceremony, of all others, to be carefully avoided ! 

[84] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
Not by me, Harry — not by me. I wish to carry, in 
my breast, from this house the numb despair of a piteous 
climax. I cannot drive away smugly from these gates 
with the simple feelings of a woman who has been pay- 
ing a mere visit — I cannot ! 

Quex. 
My dear Sidonia ! 

Duchess. 
[Decidedly.] I say I cannot! 

Quex. 
[To himself, with a little groan.] Oh! phew! 

[He walks to and fro impatiently, reflecting. 
Sophy, without her hat, comes quickly down 
the steps as if making for the table. Seeing 
Quex and the Duchess, she draws back in- 
quisitively.] 

Quex. 
[By the Duchess's side again, helplessly.] Well, I — 

ha !— I 

Duchess. 
[Rising eagerly, laying a hand upon his arm.] You 
will? 

[Sophy stoops down behind the dzvarf cypress 
hedge.] 

Quex. 
You are certain — certain that this would effectually 
remove the obstacle to your rejoining — [with a wave of 
the hand] on Friday? 

Duchess. 

Why, do you think I would risk an anticlimax? [In 

an intense whisper.] To-night! [Louder.] To-night? 

[He hesitates a little longer — then bozvs in assent, stiffly 

and coldly. She gives an ardent sigh.] Ah ! [He 

[85] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

retreats a step or tzvo. She drazvs herself up with dig- 
nity.] To-night then 

[She turns from him and glides away through 

the trees. He stands for a moment, a frown 

upon his face, in thought.] 

Q U E X . 

[Suddenly, moving in the direction she has taken.] 

No, no! Duchess ! [A gong sounds in the distance. 

He pauses, looking at his watch, angrily.] Ptshah ! [He 
turns up the stage and discovers Sophy, zvho is now 
standing behind the hedge.] Hallo! [Sophy advances, 
laughing rather foolishly. ] What are you doing here ? 

Sophy. 
Looking for my rings. I took them off before I began 
manicuring you. 

Q u ex . 
[Pointing to the hedge.] You didn't drop them there, 
did you? 

Sophy. 
No, I left them on the table. 

Q u e x . 
[Looking toward the table.] There's the table. 

Sophy. 
[Coming to the table and putting on her rings.] Yes, 
I know. 

Quex. 
[After a short pause.] How long have you been here? 

Sophy. 
I? Oh, I'd just come as you spoke to me. 

Quex. 

[Half-satisfied.] Oh ? 

[He goes up the steps, gives her a parting look, 
and disappears. It is now tzvilight. Mrs. 
[86] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Eden, Frayne, and Muriel — all dressed for dinner — 
appear on the side of the lozv hedge.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[To Frayne, walking with him above the hedge.] De- 
lightful, isn't it? It was planted by the late Lord Ow- 
bridge's father a hundred years ago. 

F R A Y n e . 
[Seeing Sophy.] Why, isn't that the young manicure 
lady? 

Mrs. Eden. 
Yes. All these pieces of sculpture are genuine old 
Italian. This quaint little fountain came from the Villa 
Marchotti 

F R A Y N E . 

[Edging toward Sophy.] Alluring. 

Mrs. Eden. 
This is the fountain. 

Frayne, 
[Returning to her.] Quaint old fountain. 

Sophy. 
[To Muriel, across the hedge in a zvhisper.] Dar- 
ling! 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Looking into the distance.] I think I see the dear 
Duchess. 

Frayne. 
[Alertly.] Where? 

Mrs. Eden. 
There. 

Frayne. 
I have the honor of knowing her Grace slightly. 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Moving away.] What a sweet woman! 

[87] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

F R A Y N E . 

[Following her.] Alluring! 

[They disappear through the trees as Muriel, 
coming from below the hedge, joins Sophy. J 

Sophy. 
Darling ! • 

Muriel. 
What is it, Sophy? 

Sophy. 
Lord Quex and this — this Duchess — they know each 
other very well, of course? 

Muriel. 
They are old acquaintances, I understand. 

Sophy. 
Ah! 

Muriel. 
Why do you ask ? 

Sophy. 
I've just seen them together, talking. 

Muriel. 
Talking? why not? 

Sophy. 
Yes, but how? 

Muriel. 

How? 

Sophy. 

I'll tell you. After you went indoors to dress, I took 
off my rings and put them on that table. [Looking azvay 
rather guiltily.] Rings fidget me, this hot weather — 
don't they you? Well, just as I'd finished with Mrs. Jack, 
it suddenly struck me — my rings ! — and I hurried back 
to fetch them. When I got here, I came across Lord 
Quex and the Duchess. 

Muriel. 
[Calmly.] Yes? 

[88] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
I stooped down behind that hedge there. 

Muriel. 
You did not ! 

Sophy. 
Oh, I suppose you consider it mean ! 

Muriel. 
Despicable ! 

Sophy. , 
Despicable, is it ! I don't care ! My goodness, I'd do 
the shabbiest thing a woman could do to save you from 
him ! 

Muriel. 
[Peering among the trees.] Hush, hush, hush! 

Sophy. 
[On the verge of tears.] Perhaps you fancy I'm mean 
from choice? Perhaps you imagine ? 

Muriel. 
Be quiet, Sophy ! 

Sophy. 
[Giving a sniff and lozvering her voice.] Well, here 
they were, standing exactly where you are, close to each 
other. [Muriel changes her position.] I saw her touch 
his arm. Oh, I'm positive there's something between 
those two ! " You will ? " I heard her say. And then he 
made a remark about Friday — Friday 

Muriel. 
The Duchess goes on Friday. 

Sophy. 
That was it, of course ! And then she mumbled some- 
thing I couldn't catch ; and then — listen to this ! — then 
she said "to-night," quite plainly. To-night! and in 
such a tone of voice! And then he bowed, and out she 

[89] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

came with " to-night " again — " to-night," for the second 
time — and away she went. Now, what do you think that 
" to-night " of hers means ? 

Muriel. 
[Coldly, seating herself upon the bench.] Nothing — 
anything. 

Sophy. 
Nothing! 

Muriel. 
A hundred topics of conversation would lead to such an 
expression. [Looking at Sophy steadily.] You are mis- 
taken in the construction you put upon it. 

Sophy. 
[Quietly.] Mistaken, am I ? 

Muriel. 
[With clenched hands.] The Duchess of Strood is a 
most immaculate woman. [Suddenly.] Oh, it would be 
too infamous ! 

[The Duchess and Frayne, follozved by Mrs. 
Eden, reappear behind the low hedge. Sophy 
retreats to the back of the bench upon which 
Muriel is sitting. The Duchess and 
Frayne approach, talking, while Mrs. Eden 
chats to Sophy across the hedge.] 

Frayne. 
[To the Duchess, gallantly.] I am flattered by your 
remembrance of me, Duchess. When we last met I had 
hardly a gray hair in my head. [Running his hand 
through his hair. ] Ha ! The West Coast ! 

Duchess. 
Is the climate so terrible ? 

f90] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

F R A Y N E . 

Deadly. But the worst of it is [with a bow and a sigh] , 
we have no European ladies. 

[Muriel — eying the Duchess — rises, shrink- 
ingly, and steals away.] 

Frayne, 
[Looking after Muriel.] Quex! ha, there's a lucky 
dog, now ! 

Duchess. 
[Sweetly.] You are delighted, naturally, at your old 
friend's approaching marriage? 

Frayne. 
[Kissing his finger-tips toward the left.] Miss 
Eden — ! [Inquisitively.] And — and you, Duchess? 

Duchess. 
[Raising her eyebroivs.] I? 

Frayne. 

You also approve his choice ? 

Duchess. 
[Blandly.] Approve? I am scarcely sufficiently inti- 
mate with either party to express approval or disapproval. 

Frayne. 
[Eying her askance.] Pardon. I though you had 
known Quex for — ah — some years. 

Duchess. 
Quite superficially. I should describe him rather as a 
great friend of his Grace. 

[Lady Owbridge appears on the top of the steps.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
Are you here, Duchess ? 

Duchess. 
[Turning to her.] Yes. 

[91] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Lady Ow bridge. 
[Coming down the steps.] Oh, I am really very upset! 

Duchess. 
Upset ? 

Lady Owbridge. 
About your maid. The circumstance has only just 
been reported to me — you have lost your maid. [Seeing 
Frayne.] Is that Sir Chichester? [Frayne advances 
and shakes hands.] I didn't observe you, in the dusk. 
Have you seen Henry? I wonder if he is waiting for us 
in the drawing-room ? 

Frayne. 
May I go and hunt for him ? 

Lady Owbridge. 
It would be kind of you. 

[Frayne goes up the steps and away. Mrs. 
Eden comes to the stone bench. Muriel 
returns slozvly, coming from among the trees 
and appearing on the further side of the low 
hedge.] 

Duchess. 
[To Lady Owbridge.] Pray don't be in the least con- 
cerned for me, dear Lady Owbridge ; the absence of my 
maid is quite a temporary matter. Poor Watson's father 
is unwell and I packed her off to him this afternoon. She 
will be back by mid-day to-morrow, she promises me. 

Lady Owbridge. 
But, dear me ! in the meantime my own woman shall 
wait upon you. 

Duchess. 
I couldn't dream of it. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Why not my Gilchrist — or let us share her? 

[92] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
No, no; the housemaid who assisted me into this 

gown 

Lady Owbridge. 
Chalmers? well, there's Chalmers, certainly. But I 
fear that Chalmers has hot hands. Or Denham — no, Den- 
ham is suffering from a bad knee. Of course, there's 
Bruce ! Bruce is painfully near-sighted — but would 
Bruce do? Oh little Atkins ? 

Sophy. 
[Stepping from behind the bench, and confronting 
Lady Owbridge — in a quiet voice.] Or I, my lady? 

Lady Owbridge. 
You, my dear ? 

Sophy. 
Why shouldn't / attend upon her Grace to-night and 
in the morning? [With half a courtesy to the Duchess.] 
I should dearly like to have the honor. 

[Muriel comes forivard, staring at Sophy.] 

> Mrs. Eden. 
Now, that's very proper and good-natured of you, 
Sophy. 

Lady Owbridge. 
But, Miss Fullgarney 

Sophy. 
[Modestly.] Oh, I never feel like Miss Fullgarney out 
of my business, my lady. You see, I was maid for years, 
and it's second nature to me. Do let me, my lady — do, 
your Grace ! 

Mrs. Eden. 

Duchess ? 

Duchess. 
[Hesitatingly.] Oh — oh, by all means. [To Sophy.] 
Thank you. 

[The gong sounds in the distance again, as 

[93] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex — noiv in evening-dress — and Frayne return to- 
gether, above the hedge.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
Here is Quex. 

[The ladies, except Muriel, join Frayne and 
Quex.] 

Muriel. 
[To Sophy.] What are you doing? 

Sophy. 
[Breathlessly.] The housekeeper showed me over the 
house. I remember — her maid's room is at the end of a 
passage leading from the boudoir ! 

Muriel. 
Sophy, you must not ! you sha'n't ! 

Sophy. 
Why, isn't it for the best? If I was mistaken over 
what I heard just now, I sha'n't see or hear anything 
wicked to-night ; and that will satisfy both of us ! 

Lady Owbridge. 

[Calling.] Muriel 

[Muriel joins the group; Sophy slips azvay 
and disappears.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
[To the Duchess.] Shall we go in? 

[Lady Owbridge and the Duchess, and Mrs. 
Eden and Muriel, ascend the steps and go 
toward the house. Instead of following the 
ladies, Quex turns sharply and conies for- 
ward with an angry, sullen look upon his 
face.] 

Frayne. 
[Looking round for Quex.] Hallo, Harry ! [Coming 
to Quex.] Aren't you ? 

[94] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U E X . 

Hang dinner ! I don't want to eat. 

F R A Y n e . 
Anything wrong, old man? anything I ? 

Q u e x . 
[Shaking himself up.] No, no; nothing — the hot 
weather. Come along; we mustn't be late for grace. 
[Boisterously.] At any rate, a glass of champagne — 
[slapping Frayne on the back] a glass or two of Felix 
Poubelle, hey ? Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or ! ha, ha, ha ! 
[As they turn to go, they see Sophy on the other 
side of the lozv hedge, looking at them stead- 
ily.] 

Q u ex . 
[To Frayne, quietly.] Wait! 

[They stand still, while Sophy very demurely 
walks to the steps, ascends them, and disap- 
pears.] 

Quex. 
[In, an altered tone.] Chick — you see that hussy? 

Frayne. 
Miss Fullgarney ? 

Quex. 
I can't make her out. I believe she wants to play some 
trick on me. 

Frayne. 
Trick? 

Quex. 
Ton my soul, I believe she's prying — spying on me. 

Frayne. 
That nice gal ! 

Quex. 
Oh, I daresay I'm wrong. But if I found it so, I — I'd 
wring her neck. 

[95] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

F R A Y N E . 

[ Wistfully. ] It's an alluring neck. 

Quex. 

Possibly. But I'd wring it ! 

[ They go up the steps together. ] 



END OF THE SECOND ACT. 



[96 1 




THE THIRD ACT 

The scene represents two rooms — a bedroom and a bou- 
doir — separated by an arched opening across zvhich 
a portiere is hung. The portiere is, however, drawn 
aside, and the bedroom, in zvhich is a bed zvith an 
elaborate canopy, is partly revealed. The boudoir 
is nearest to the spectator. Above the fireplace, zvith 
bare hearth, on the right, is a broad window run- 
ning obliquely toward the centre, concealed by heavy 
curtains. On the left of the window, facing the 
audience, is a door admitting to a lorkg, narrow pas- 
sage in zvhich a hanging lamp is burning; and on 
the left of this door is the arched opening dividing 
the bedroom from the boudoir. Another door opens 
into the boudoir on the opposite side from a corridor 
or landing. Beyond this door, against the zvall, is 
a cabinet, on top of which is a clock. A chair stands 
at each end of this cabinet. On the left of the arched 
opening — placed obliquely, the mirror turned from 
the audience — is a cheval-glass; and on the right is 
a sculptured figure or ornamental pillar supporting 
a lighted lamp. Before the window stands a large 
dressing-table. On the table are a pair of candelabra 
with lighted candles, a looking-glass, toilet-bottles, 

[97] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

and a hand-mirror. A chair faces the dressing-table. 
Nearer to the spectator are a writing-table, zvith a 
heap of French novels on it, and an arm-chair. Op- 
posite stand a circular table, an arm-chair, and a 
settee. A silver box containing cigarettes, an ash- 
tray, a match-stand, and a lighted spirit-lamp are on 
this table. 
The rooms are richly furnished and decorated, but in 
an old-fashioned and formal manner. Everything 
is subdued and faded in tone. There are no pillows 
upon the chairs, nor on the settee, nor any other 
signs of case and comfort. Keys are in the locks of 
both the doors. 

[The Duchess and Mrs. Eden are seated — the 
Duchess in the arm-chair, Mrs. Eden upon 
the settee — smoking cigarettes. Mrs. Eden 
is wearing a smart dressing- jacket; the 
Duchess is still fully dressed. Sophy, who 
has assumed an apron, is engaged in bring- 
ing hair-brushes and some toilet-bottles from 
the bedroom and in arranging them upon the 
dressing-table. Her eyes are constantly upon 
the Duchess.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
These are awfully pleasant cigarettes. I didn't know 

you 

Duchess. 

[Plaintively.'] My doctor insists — for my nerves. 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Blowing rings.] I love smoking. Such a bore, be- 
cause women are rather dropping it. [Examining her 
cigarette.] What are these? 

Duchess. 
I forget. 

[98] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Mrs. Eden. 
I see — Argyropulos. 

[There is a knock at the door. Sophy goes to 
the door and opens it slightly; a note is 
handed to her.] 

Sophy. 
[Looking at the note.] Oh, thanks. [Closing the 
door.] I beg your pardon, your Grace — it's for me. 
[She returns to the dressing-table, reading the note.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Jestingly.] Ah, Sophy ! you must encourage no more 
sweethearts now, remember. 

Sophy. 
This is from him, Mrs. Eden — from Mr. Valma, say- 
ing good-night. He's gone to bed. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Good gracious ! how do you know ? 

Sophy. 
Mrs. Gregory, the house-keeper, has allowed him to 
sleep here to-night, so that we may go back together in 
the morning. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Ah, yes. 

Duchess. 
[Taking off her bracelets.] My jewel-case, Sophy. 

[Sophy puts the note to her lips, slips it into 
the bodice of her dress, and re-enters the bed- 
room.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[To the Duchess.] By-the-by, what did Valma see 
in your hand, Duchess, after dinner ? Why wouldn't you 
tell us? 

[99] Ltffc 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Duchess. 
I was too vexed at the moment. [With downcast 
eyes.] He professed to discover that a number of men 
are in love with me. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Yes, but what made you angry? 



Why, that. 
That! 



Duchess. 
Mrs. Eden 



Duchess. 
They were shocking words to listen to, even when 
spoken by a mere fortune-teller. And you — why did 
you not confide to us the result of Mr. Valma's reading 
of your palm? 

[Sophy comes from the bedroom, carrying a 
jewel-case, which she deposits upon the dress- 
ing-table.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
I was in a rage too. Ha ! there's only one man in love 
with me, it appears. 

Duchess. 
[With a shudder.] One is sufficiently dreadful. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Horrid! [Making a moue.] It's Jack — my husband! 

Duchess. 

[Reprovingly.] Hush, dear Mrs. Eden! Sophy 

[Sophy comes to the Duchess. Languidly.] I shall 
read for half an hour before attempting to sleep. Put 
me into something loose. 

Sophy. 
Yes, your Grace. 

[Sophy again retires to the bedroom.] 

[ ioo] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Rising.] May I look at your literature? 

[Mrs. Eden goes to the zvriting-table and turns 
over the books she finds there. The Duchess 
glances at the clock, and eyes Mrs. Eden with 
impatience.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
" Le Calvaire d'unc vicrge." " Lnne de Miel." " Les 
Aventnres de Madame Plon." Oh, I've heard of this! 
this is a little — h'm ! — isn't it ? 

Duchess. 
I read those things for the sake of their exquisitely 
polished style; the subjects escape me. 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Seating herself by the zvriting-table and dipping into 
" Madame Plon."] Ah, yes, the style — the style. [Ab- 
sorbed.] We haven't much real literary style in Eng- 
land, have we? 

[Sophy returns, carrying a pink tea-gown 
trimmed with green ribbons, and a richly em- 
broidered Mandarin's robe.'] 

Sophy. 
Will your Grace put on one of these? [With a curl 
of the lip.] They're both very becoming, I should think. 

Duchess. 
[Smiling sadly.] Becoming! as if that mattered, 
child ! 

Sophy. 
Which will your Grace ? 

Duchess. 
[To herself, closing her eyes.] Couleur de rose — [to 
Sophy] er — that pink rag. Take off my collarette. 

[Sophy lays the tea-gown and the robe over the 

[ ioi] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

back of the settee and proceeds to unfasten the Duchess's 
pearl collarette.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Startled by some passage in the book she is reading.] 
Oh, I say! 

Duchess. 

What, dear Mrs. Eden? 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Bethinking herself — soberly.] Ah, yes, the style is 
excellent, isn't it? 

Duchess. 
[To Sophy, while the collarette is in process of re- 
moval.] Have you everything you require for the night, 
child ? 

Sophy. 
Yes, thank you, your Grace. Miss Gilchrist, Mrs. 
Eden's maid, has lent me a night-gown and a pair of 
slippers. 

Duchess. 
[Handing her bracelets to Sophy.] Drop them into 
the case. 

[Sophy puts the collarette and bracelets in the 
jewel-case. The Duchess, rising, again looks 
at the clock and at Mrs. Eden. Sophy re- 
turns to the Duchess, zvho is now behind the 
settee.] 

Duchess. 
[To Sophy.] It is very good of you, Sophy, to at- 
tend upon me. 

Sophy. 
[Averting her head.] Not at all, your Grace. 

Duchess. 
[Taking up the Mandarin's robe.] Here is a pretty 
thing for you. [Giving the robe to Sophy.] Wear it 
to dress your hair in, in the morning. 

[ I02] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[Breathing shortly.] Oh, no, your Grace — please- ! 

Duchess. 
Nonsense, child ; take it. 

[Sophy, somczvhat out of countenance, lays the 
robe over the back of the chair.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Looking up.] Well, you are a lucky girl, Sophy! 

Sophy. 
Yes, I know it's very beautiful ; [returning to the 
Duchess] but I — I think I'd rather not 

Duchess. 
Tsch, tsch! help me. [The Duchess is standing be- 
fore the cheval-glass, zvhich conceals her from the audi- 
ence. With Sophy's aid, she slips out of her dress and 
puts herself into the tca-goivn, while she talks to Mrs. 
Eden.] Miss Eden is not well to-night, I am afraid. 
She didn't come into the darwing-room. 

[Mrs. Eden rises and goes to the settee, upon 
which she partly kneels while she chatters to 
the Duchess.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
She complained of headache and bolted upstairs. 
Muriel is such an odd girl at times. 

Duchess. 
A sweet one. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Perfectly adorable. Only I wish she wasn't so moody 
and uncertain. 

Duchess. 
But a headache — [sympathetically] dear child! 
[ I03 ] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Mrs. Eden. 
An engaged girl ought not to have a headache — no 
girl ought. It's just one of those things that make a 
man ponder. 

Duchess. 
Ponder? 

Mrs. Eden. 
Reflect. A man loves to think a girl is like an angel 
— beautiful pink and white right through, with no clock- 
work. The moment she complains of headache, or tooth- 
ache, or a chilblain on the heel, the angel game is off, 
and she's got to try and hold her own as a simple mor- 
tal. And as a mortal she's not in it with a man. No, 
it's angel or nothing with us women. I remember my 
Mater saying to me when I was engaged to Jack, " Sybil, 
now mind ! enjoy the very best of health till you have 
been married at least ten years ; and then be sure you 
have an excellent motive for cracking-up." [The clock 
tinkles out the half-hour. She glances at the clock.] 
Half-past eleven! the dead of night for this house! 
[Rising.] I'll be off to my cot. 

[Sophy carries the Duchess's dress into the 
bedroom.] 

Duchess. 
[Coming to Mrs. Eden.] Must you? Good-night. 

Mrs. Eden. 
So nice of you to allow me this gossip. 

Duchess. 
Delighted. [They kiss affectionately.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
We go shopping together to-morrow, do we not ? 

Duchess. 
Yes, yes. 

[ 104] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Mrs. Eden. 
[With exaggerated regret.] To-morrow! your last 
day here! misery! [At the door, finding she still has 
"Madame Plon" in her hand.] Oh! do you happen to 
be on this one? 

Duchess. 
Not that one. 

Mrs. Eden. 
I wonder whether you'd lend it to me ? 

Duchess. 
Gladly. 

Mrs. Eden. 
As you say, there is something about these French 

writers 

Duchess. 
Style. 

Mrs. Eden. 
That's it — style. [Opening the door.] Ah! lights out. 

Duchess. 
Can you see? 

Mrs. Eden. 

[Going out.] There's just a glimmer 

[She disappears.] 

Duchess. 

I'll keep the door open till you have turned the corner. 

[Sophy comes back and stands watching the 

Duchess. The Duchess remains at the open 

door for a little zvhile, then kisses her hand 

to Mrs. Eden and closes the door.] 

Sophy. 
Shall I brush your Grace's hair now? 

Duchess. 

[Going to the ivriting-table and taking up a book.] 

No. I will do it. The exertion of brushing my hair, I 

often find, encourages sleep. I'll put myself to bed. 

Run away. Don't let me see or hear anything of you 

[105] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

till the morning. Eight o'clock. [She reclines upon the 
settee and opens her book. Sophy, eying her keenly, is 
about to withdraw.] Oh — Sophy! [Sophy returns.] 
Do you — believe in Mr. Valma? 

Sophy. 
Believe in him, your Grace? 

Duchess. 
Believe that when he reads a woman's hand he has 
really the power of divination — the power he professes? 

Sophy. 
Oh, yes. 

Duchess. 
[Looking away.] Then if he tells a woman that a 
great many men are deeply in love with her, you — 

you ? 

Sophy. 
I'm sure he knows what he's talking about. 

Duchess. 
[With a little purr of contentment.] Ah! [Assum- 
ing indifference] I heard recently of an instance of his 
having conjectured such a state of affairs from the lines 
of a woman's hand. [Severely.] I could only hope that 
his surmise was an incorrect one. 

Sophy. 
[Her eyes flashing scornfully.] You see, your Grace, 
if a woman is pretty, and Valma finds Venus's girdle 
well marked in her palm ; and if he concludes from other 
signs that she's vain and light and loose ; it isn't much 
to suppose' that there are a few horrid men licking their 
lips at the thought of her. 

Duchess. 
[Shocked.] My good girl! what curious expressions 
you make use of! [Resuming her reading.] That's all. 
[Sophy goes to the door and opens it.] 
[106] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
I wish your Grace good-night. 

Duchess. 
[Raising her head for a moment.] Good-night. You 
are not taking your robe. 

[Sophy looks at the robe and hesitates; in the 
end she gathers it up uneasily.] 

Sophy. 
I — I am very much obliged to your Grace 

Duchess. 

Yes, you have thanked me enough. Turn out the lamp 
in that passage. 

Sophy. 

Certainly, your Grace. 

[Sophy disappears, shutting the door after her. 
The Duchess remains quite still for a mo- 
ment, then rises promptly, replaces her book, 
and — seating herself at the dressing-table — 
puts her hair in order. This done, she takes 
up the hand-mirror and smiles, frowns, and 
looks caressingly at herself. Then she lays 
the hand-mirror aside, blozvs out the candles 
upon the dressing-table, and poses before the 
cheval-glass. Ultimately, completely assured 
as to her appearance, she cautiously opens the 
door at which Sophy has departed, and, go- 
ing a few steps along the passage, listens zvith 
strained ears. The passage is now in dark- 
ness. Apparently satisfied, the Duchess re- 
turns, and, closing the door gently, turns the 
key in the lock. Her next proceeding is to 
attempt to tear one of the ribbons from her 
tea-gozvn. Failing in this, she detaches it 
zvith the aid of a pair of scissors, and, opening 

\ 107] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

the door leading from the corridor, ties the ribbon to 
the outer door-handle. Whereupon she closes 
the door and ivalks about the room con- 
tentedly. Suddenly she pauses, and, going 
to the cabinet, produces a small tray on which 
are a bottle of champagne and a champagne 
glass. Placing the tray on the circular table, 
she regards the single glass thoughtfidly. 
Then, as if struck by an idea, she disappears 
into the bedroom. After a brief interval, the 
door opens softly and Quex enters, carrying 
a lighted wax match. Being in, he shuts the 
door silently and looks about the room. Hear- 
ing the Duchess in the adjoining apartment, 
he frowns and blozvs out the match. Coming 
to the circular table, he contemplates the 
preparation for his reception with distaste; 
then, dinging the match into the ash-tray, he 
sits, with a set, determined look upon his face. 
After another short pause, the Duchess re- 
turns, polishing a tumbler zvith a cambric 
handkerchief. Quex rises.] 

Duchess. 
[Under her breath.] Ah! [He bozvs stiffly. She 
places the tumbler on the tray, tosses the handkerchief 
aside, and — first motioning him to stand azvay from the 
line of the door — opens the door, removes the ribbon from 
the handle, closes and locks it. Then she turns to him 
with a long-drawn sigh.] Ah — h — h ! 

Quex. 
[Coming down gloomily.] Is it all right? 

Duchess. 
Quite. [Advancing to him zvith outstretched hands.] 
Welcome, Harry ! oh, welcome ! 

[108] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U E X . 

[Retreating a fczv steps — firmly.] One moment. 1 
have something to ask of you, Sidonia. [Looking round.] 

You are sure ? 

Duchess. 

Yes, yes. Only don't raise your voice ; [glancing 
towards the door] my maid sleeps in a room at the end 
of that passage. [Gracefully seating herself upon the 
settee and motioning him to sit beside her.] Sit down. 
Oh, the woe of this final meeting! the pathos of it! 

Quex. 
[Bitterly, withdrawing the chair a little further from 
the table.'] Yes, I agree with you — there is an element 
of wofulness in this meeting; it is not altogether with- 
out pathos. 

Duchess. 
Not altogether ! 

Quex. 
[Sitting, facing her.] But, for yourself, my dear 
Sidonia — well, I have the consolation of believing that 
directly you turn your back upon Fauncey Court much 
of the wofulness of your position will evaporate. 

Duchess. 
Harry ! 

Quex. 
Forgive me — you admit that you delight in coloring 
even the most ordinary events of life rather highly. If 
I may put it more roughly, you are disposed, my dear 
Sidonia — at times, perhaps, a little inopportunely — to 
burn a good deal of red fire. [Leaning forward.] At 
any rate, I beg an especial favor of you to-night. 

Duchess. 
What—? 

Quex. 
[Distinctly. .] No red fire. 

[ 109] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
[Chilled.] Is this the something you had to ask of 
me? [He bows in assent.] I cannot remember ever hav- 
ing seen you in this mood. 

Q u e x . 

This is our first actual tcte-a-tcte since my engagement 

to Miss Eden. 

Duchess. 
Oh, I understand. 

Quex. 
And now shall I tell you where the wofulness and the 
pathos most conspicuously display themselves on this 
occasion ? 

Duchess. 
If you wish to. 

Quex. 
In the confounded treachery of my being here at all. 

Duchess. 
Treachery ? 

Quex. 

You know I am under a bond of good behavior to my 

old aunt and to the Edens. 

Duchess. 
[With a slight shrug of the shoulders.] Really? 

Quex. 
• Yes. [Clenching his teeth.] And this is how I ob- 
serve it. After all my resolutions, this — this is how I 
observe it. 

[He rises and paces tip and down the room.] 

Duchess. 
[Fretfully.] I am bound to remark that your present 
behavior appears quite unimpeachable. 

Quex. 
Unimpeachable! here — alone — in your company! 

[no] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
[Covering her eyes with her hand.] Oh, cruel, cruel! 

Quex. 

[Pausing.] Cruel ? 

Duchess. 
[With heaving bosom.] But there ! if you deny me the 
possession of real feeling, why should you hesitate to 
rain blows on me? 

Quex. 
[Softening, coming to her.] My dear Sidonia, I don't 
— I don't mean to 

Duchess. 
[Rising, and grasping his hands.] Oh, Harry! 

Quex. 
Tsch ! please ! [He releases himself and she sinks back 
upon the settee, her eyes closed. He regards her uncom- 
fortably for a moment; then, with some hesitation, he 
produces from his coat-tail pocket a small box covered 
with a pretty brocade, with which he toys uneasily.] You 
expressed a wish to leave here on Friday with a sensation 
of despair at your heart, Sidonia. If your feeling about 
our parting is really a deep one, heaven knows I have no 
desire to make it more acute 

Duchess. 
[Partly opening her eyes.] What is in that box, 
Harry ? 

Quex. 
That is just what I was about to — to — [Lifting the lid 
and closing it.] These are the little souvenirs which have 
passed from you to me at odd times. 

Duchess. 
[With reviving interest.] Ah, yes. 
[in] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U EX . 

I have had no other opportunity — [Looking about him 
awkwardly for a place to deposit the box.] Will you — ? 
shall I — ? what the devil's to become of 'em? 

Duchess. 
[Sitting upright and passing her hand over her back 
hair.] Were there a fire, we could crouch over it and 
watch the flames consume them one by one. 

Quex. 
But there isn't a fire. 

Duchess. 
[Rising, and taking the box from him.] Let us ex- 
amine them. 

Quex. 
No, no, no. 

Duchess. 
Yes, yes. [Opening the box and gazing into it.] Ah, 
poor little objects ! dead, yet animate ; silent, yet, oh, how 

eloquent ! Don't go away 

[She overturns the contents of the box on to 
the table. They stand opposite each other, 
looking doivn upon the litter.] 

Duchess. 
[She picks up a ring.] A ring — [thoughtfully] tur- 
quoise and pearl. [Recollecting.] Stockholm! You 
remember — that night you and I sat watching the lights 
of the cafe on the Norrbro ! 

Quex. 
[Hastily.] Yes, yes; you've recalled it already to-day. 

Duchess. 
[Picking up a scarf-pin.] A scarf-pin. Copenhagen! 
Ah, that pretty state-room of mine on the Irene t 

Quex. 
Yes, yes, charming. 

[112] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
[Taking up a locket. A locket — my name in brill- 
iants. Genoa ! Look, it still contains my hair. 

Quex. 
[Nodding.] H'm, um. 

Duchess. 
[Taking up a white shoe.] My shoe. Where ? 

Quex. 
[Shaking his head.] I don't 



Duchess. 
Mentone ! 

Quex. 
Of course — Mentone. 

Duchess. 
[Discovering some object in the shoe.] What is this? 
[Producing a garter of pale-blue silk, with a diamond 
buckle.] A — a — where — ? ah, yes. [Replacing the 
things in the box.] Oh, the poor little objects! dead, yet 
animate ; silent, yet, oh, how eloquent ! 

[She passes him and slips the box into the 
drawer of the writing-table. The clock strikes 
a quarter to twelve.] 

Quex. 
[Glancing at the clock.] By Jove, it's late! I — I'll 
leave you now, Sidonia. 

Duchess. 
[Turning.] No, no — not yet, Harry. [Coming to the 
table and taking up the box of cigarettes.] Why, you for- 
get — [offering him the box] Argyropulos! 

Quex. 
[Accepting a cigarette reluctantly.] Thanks. [Again 
looking at the clock.] Well — three minutes. 

[Ii3] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 

[Taking a cigarette, replacing the box, and holding 
the spirit lamp while he lights his cigarette from it.] 
You were not always so impatient. [In lighting his cig- 
arette, the flame of the lamp is blown out.] Ah! [After 
replacing the lamp, she lights her cigarette from his, 
gazing into his eyes.] Argyropulos. [Dreamily.] Once 
more — Argyropulos. 

Q u e x . 

Yes, yes — capital tobacco. [He gets away from her.] 

Duchess. 
And look ! you see, Harry ? 

Quex. 
[Turning.] Eh? 

Duchess. 
[Pointing to the bottle of champagne.] " Felix Pou- 
belle, Carte d'Or " ! [Taking up the scissors which she 
has left upon the table.] The wire is already severed. 

[She commences to cut the string. He comes 
to her.] 

Quex. 
[Taking the scissors from her.] Oh, permit me. 

[Always intent upon avoiding her, he moves 
away, the bottle in his hand, cutting the 
string. ] 

Duchess. 
[Following him.] Is it likely to make a loud report? 

Quex. 
Hardly. 

Duchess. 
[Frozvning censoriously.] One doesn't want a sound 
of that sort to ring through the corridors. [Looking 
about her impatiently.] These formal, frigid rooms! 

[She runs lightly into the bedroom, snatches a 
pillow from the bed, and returns to him.] 

[114] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

OUEX. 

[His hand upon the cork.] What is that for? 

Duchess. 
[Enveloping his hand and the bottle in the pillow — 
calmly.] It is wiser to muffle it. 

[He pauses, looking at her fixedly.] 

OUEX. 

[In a low, grave voice.] Dolly 

Duchess. 
Dolly ! [Closing her eyes.] You give me my pet name 
again ! 

Q u e x . 
Ah, Dolly, if only there wasn't quite so much in one's 
life — to muffle! [He pulls the cork. She tosses the pil- 
low on to the settee, a little irritably.] May I ? 

[She inclines her head. He pours wine into the 
glasses; she takes the champagne glass, he 
the tumbler.] 

Duchess. 
[Sentimentally.] Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or! [Look- 
ing at him over the brim of her glass. ] Eh bienl au 
joycux passe! 

Q u e x . 
Non, non — a un avenir meilleur! 

Duchess. 
Que vous ctes prosaique! soit! [They drink.] 

[She sits with a sigh of dissatisfaction.] Ah! 

Quex. 
[Leaning against the table, drinking his wine.] Won- 
derful wine — really exceptional. [Struck by a thought, 
turning to her.] Forgive me — you must have found 
some difficulty in introducing Monsieur Felix Poubelle 
into this hallowed apartment. 

[ii5] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Duchess. 
No. [Sipping her wine.] My maid thinks it is by 
my doctor's orders. 

Quex. 
Your maid, yes — [sipping his wine; then sitting upon 
the settee, glass in hand] — but my poor aunt must be 
highly scandalized. 

Duchess. 
[Her glass at her lips.] Dear Lady Owbridge will not 
know. I told the girl to coax it out of the butler, as if 
it were for herself. These women have a way of doing 
such things. 

Quex. 
[Laughing rather sadly.] Ha, ha, ha! who is beyond 
temptation? Not even old Bristow — sixty if he's a day. 

Duchess. 
[Shrugging her shoulders.] Sixty or sixteen — when 
a girl is fascinating 

Quex. 
Fascinating ! your woman, Watson ! 

Duchess. 
No, no — Watson has left me for a few hours. I am 
speaking of Sophy. 

[There is a brief silence. Quex, surprised in 
the act of drinking, lowers his glass slozvly.] 

Quex. 
[In a queer voice.] Sophy? 

Duchess. 
Miss Fullgarney, the manicurist. She was so good as 
to offer to take Watson's place for to-night. 

Quex. 
[Looking steadily before him.] Oh? 

[There is another pause. The Duchess puts 

[116] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

dozvn her glass and, with her foot, pushes the footstool 
toward Quex.] 

Duchess. 
[Sliding from her chair on to the footstool.] Oh, 
Harry, the bitterness of this final meeting ! the dull agony 
of it! 

[He gets rid of his tumbler and touches her 
arm.] 

Quex. 
[Quietly.] Duchess 

Duchess. 
[Surprised.] Eh? 

Quex. 
I am sorry to alarm you, but this girl — Miss Eden's 
foster-sister 

Duchess. 
What about her? 

Quex. 
She's a cat. 

Duchess. 
Cat! 

Quex. 
[Gathering his ideas as he proceeds.] A common hus- 
sy, not above playing tricks — spying 

Duchess. 
Spying ! 

Quex. 

I caught her behind the hedge this evening, in the 

Italian garden, after you and I had been talking together. 

Duchess. 
Behind the hedge ! 

Quex. 
She had previously done her best to make an ass of 

me, while you were dressing for dinner ! [Looking 

tozvard the passage-door.] Where do you say her room 
is? 

[117] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
At the end of that passage. [They rise together, with 
very little movement.] Oh, but she is in bed, and asleep! 

Quex. 
Is she ? 

Duchess. 
Harry ! 

Quex. 

Wait ! [He goes to the door, and examines the 

key-hole. Then he turns to the Duchess and beckons to 

her. She joins him. He says, in a whisper, pointing to 

the key-hole.] Do you notice ? 

Duchess. 
What? 

Quex. 
The key is in the lock horizontally. 

Duchess. 
She may have been peeping at us? [He nods. She 
is sick at the thought.] How inexcusably careless of me! 

Quex. 
[At her elbozu.] Listen. I'll keep out of sight. Open 
the door boldly and walk along the passage. See if there 
is any sign of movement 

Duchess. 
Yes, yes. [Steadying herself.] Perhaps we are dis- 
turbing ourselves unnecessarily. 

Quex. 
[Nodding reassuringly.] Perhaps so. 

[He draws back into the bedroom, but so that 
he can put his head out at the opening, and 
watch the Duchess's proceedings. She goes 
to the door and lays her hand upon the key.] 

Duchess. 
[Faltering.] Oh! oh, great heavens ! 

[118] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U E X . 

[Encouragingly.] It's all right — it's all right. Very 
likely I am mistaken. Now ! 

[The Duchess opens the door suddenly, and 
Sophy, zvho is kneeling at the key-hole, 
lurches forward. ] 

Duchess. 
Ah! 

[Sophy, enveloped in the Mandarin's robe, 
gathers herself up and, zvithout a word, Hies 
away along the passage. The Duchess shuts 
t4ie door and walks unsteadily to the settee. 
Quex comes down, his mouth set hard.] 

Quex. 
I was sure of it. 

Duchess. 
[Aghast.] What will she do? will she tell ? 

Quex. 
Yes— she'll tell. 

Duchess. 
Why do you speak so positively? 

Quex. 
She is in Miss Eden's confidence — the trull. And she 
has always shown her teeth at me, now I remember. 
[Drazving a deep breath.] Oh, yes, I see — Miss Fullgar- 
ney has meant mischief throughout. 

Duchess. 
[Sinking upon the settee.] Oh! 

Quex. 
[Quietly.] Well — I'm done. 

Duchess. 
Oh, my reputation! 

Quex. 
I'm — done. 

[ii9] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Duchess. 
My reputation ! I have never ceased to guard that, as 



you know. 
I've lost her. 
My reputation ! 



Quex, 
Duchess 



Quex. 
Of course, I deserve it. But— 



[He sits, his head bowed.] 

Duchess. 
[Looking up.] To think — to think that I allowed this 
plausible creature to thrust herself upon me ! [He raises 
his head, glaring fiercely. She beats the pillow.] Oh! 
oh ! my reputation in the hands of this low creature ! 

Quex. 

Ah ! [With a half-smothered cry he goes to the 

door and pulls it open. The Duchess runs after him 
and seises his arm.] I said I'd wring her damned neck — 
I told Frayne so. 

Duchess. 

[Pushing him away from the door.] Don't! don't! 
violence will not help us. [She closes the door; he stands 
clutching the chair by the writing-table. The clock 
strikes twelve.] Midnight. [Leaning upon a chair.] 
At any rate, you had better go now. 

Quex. 
[Turning to her.] I beg your pardon ; I regret having 
lost control of myself. 

Duchess. 
[Miserably.] It has been a wretchedly disappointing 
meeting. 

Quex. 
[Heavily.] Let us see each other in the morning. 
[She nods.] Be walking in the grounds by nine. 

[ I20] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
Yes. [Rallying.] After all, Harry, there may be noth- 
ing behind this woman's behavior. It may have been 
only the vulgarest curiosity on her part. 
Quex. 
[Incredulously.] Ha! However, in that case 

Duchess. 
Money. 

Quex. 
Money. 

Duchess. 
I ought to sound her directly she presents herself at 
my bedside, ought I not? 

Quex. 
Earlier — before she has had time to get about the 
house. Stand at nothing. If she's to be bought, she 
shall have whatever she demands— any sum ! 

Duchess. 
How liberal of you ! 

[Quex walks tozvard the door, then turns to her.] 

Quex. 
One thing I hope I need hardly say, Duchess ? 

Duchess. 

What ? 

Quex. 
[With dignity.] Worst come to the worst. I shall de- 
fend you by every means in my power. I'm done, I feel 
sure [drawing himself up] ; but, of course, I shall lie for 
you like the devil. 

Duchess. 
[Plaintively.] Thanks. And I have dragged you into 

it all. 

Quex. 
Tsch! [Bowing stiMy.] Good-night. 

'[121] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
Good-night. [She goes to the table and prepares to 
remove the tray. Having turned the key of the door, 
Quex pauses. She says f ret f idly:] Oh, why don't you 
go, Harry? 

Quex. 
[Facing her sharply, a new light in his eyes.] No! 
you go. 

Duchess. 
[In astonishment.] I! 

Quex. 
[Returning to her excitedly.] I tell you I can't wait 
through a night of suspense: Quick! [Pacing the 
room.] Leave me to deal with her here, at once. 

Duchess. 
You! 

Quex. 
[Snapping his fingers.] By Jove, yes! 

Duchess. 
What are you going to do ? 

Quex. 
Give her a fair chance, and then — spoil her tale against 
you, in any event. 

Duchess. 
How? 

Quex. 
Trust to me. [Impatiently.] Go, Duchess. 

Duchess. 
But where? where can I ? 

Quex. 
Run away to Mrs. Jack — ask her to let you share her 
room to-night. [Pointing to the writing-table.] Ah — ! 

scribble a message 

[The Duchess seats herself at the writing-table 
and zvrites agitatedly at his dictation.] 
[ 122] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U EX . 

[Dictating.] " The Duchess of Strood has been seized 
with a dreadful fit of nerves and has gone to Mrs. Eden's 
room. Come to her there at eight." Lay that upon the 
bed. [Indicating the bedroom.] Is there a door in there ? 

Duchess. 
[Rising breathlessly.] Yes. 

Q U E X . 

Locked ? 

Duchess. 
Yes. 

Q U E X . 

The key. [Imperatively.] Give me the key. [She 
rims into the bedroom and, having laid the written mes- 
sage upon the bed, disappears for a moment. He refills 
his tumbler and drinks, chuckling sardonically as he does 
so.] Ha, ha, ha! [She returns with the key, which he 

pockets.] The bell that rings in your maid's room ? 

[She points to the bell-rope hanging beside the passage- 
door.] Good. [Motioning to her to go.] Now 

[She is going toward the other door; he detains her.] 
Hist! [Thoughtfully.] If anything unusual should oc- 
cur, remember that we were simply discussing books and 
pictures in the Italian garden before dinner. 

Duchess. 
[Intently.] Books and pictures — of course. [In an 
outburst.] Oh, you are certain you can save my repu- 
tation ? 

Q u e x . 
[Politely.] Yours at least, my dear Duchess. Sleep 
well. 

[She is about to open the door when a thought 
strikes her and she again runs up to the bed.] 

Duchess. 
Ah ! 

[123] 



Hey 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 

[She returns, carrying her night-dress case — 
a thing of white satin zvith a monogram and 
coronet embroidered upon it. She holds it up 
to him in explanation; he nods, and she lets 
herself out. He immediately locks the door 
at which she has departed and slips the key 
into his waistcoat pocket. This done, he pulls 
the bell-rope communicating zvith the maid's 
room and takes up a position against the wall 
so that the opening of the passage door con- 
ceals him from the view of the person enter- 
ing. After a pause the door is opened and 
Sophy appears. The frills of her night-dress 
peep out from tinder the Mandarin's robe, and 
she is wearing a pair of scarlet cloth slippers; 
altogether she presents an odd, fantastic fig- 
ure. She pauses in the doorzvay hesitatingly, 
then steadies herself and, zvith a defiant air, 
stalks into the bedroom. Directly she has 
moved away, Quex softly closes the door, 
locks it, and pockets the key. Meanwhile 
Sophy, looking about the bedroom for the 
Duchess, discovers the paper upon the bed. 
She picks it up, reads it, and replaces it, and, 
coming back into the boudoir, encounters 
Quex.] 

Sophy. 
Oh! 

Quex. 
[With a careless nod.] Ah? 

Sophy. 
[Recovering herself, and speaking zvith a contemptu- 
ous smile.] So her Grace has packed herself off to Mrs. 
Eden's room. [Firmly.] Who rang for me, please? 

[124] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Q U EX . 

/ rang. 

Sophy. 
You? what for? 

Q u e x . 
Oh, you and I are going to have a cosey little chat to- 
gether. 

Sophy. 
[Haughtily.] I don't understand you. 

Q U E X . 

We'll understand one another well enough, in a minute. 
[He lights another cigarette and seats himself 
upon the settee. She moves to the back of a 
chair, eying him distrustfully.] 

Quex. 
Now then ! You've been at the key-hole, have you ? 

Sophy. 
[Slightly embarrassed.] Y — yes. 

Quex. 
[Sharply.] Eh? 

Sophy. 
[Defiantly.] Yes; you know I have. 

Quex. 
Ah. And I should like to know a little more, while 
we are upon the delicate subject of spying. When I 
found you behind the cypress-hedge this evening before 

dinner 

Sophy. 
Well? 

Quex. 
You had just at that moment returned to the Italian 
garden, you said. 

Sophy. 
Yes, so I said. 

[125] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U E X . 

As a matter of fact, you had been there some time, I 
presume ? 

Sophy. 
A minute or two. 

Q u ex . 
Heard anything? 

Sophy. 
[Laughing maliciously.] Ha, ha, ha! I heard her 
Grace say, "to-night" — [faintly mimicking the Duchess] 
" to-night ! " [With a curl of the lip.] That was enough 
for me. 

Q u e x . 
Quite so. You told a deliberate lie, then, when I ques- 
tioned you? 

Sophy. 
Yes. 

Quex. 
Earlier in the evening, that manicure game of yours 
— nothing but a damned cunning trick, eh? 

S c P h y . 
I beg you won't use such language. 

Quex. 
A trick, eh ? 

Sophy. 
Certainly. 

Quex. 
You wanted — what did you want? 

Sophy. 
[Disdainfully.] A kiss, or a squeeze of the waist — 
anything of that sort would have done. 

Quex. 
Oh, would it? You didn't get what you wanted, 
though. 

[126] 



THE GAY LORD OUEX 

Sophy. 
No; I suppose you were frightened. 

Quex. 
[Angrily.] What! 

Sophy. 
Too many people about for you. 

Quex. 
[Stifling his annoyance] Tsch ! If I had — [with a 
wave of the hand] what course would you have taken, 
pray? 

Sophy. 
[With an air of great propriety.] Complained at once 
to Lady Owbridge. 

Quex. 
As it is — what do you think of doing now? 

Sophy. 
About you and her Grace? 

Quex. 
[Scoivling.] Yes. 

Sophy. 
Oh, tell the ladies in the morning, first thing. 

Quex. 
[Again putting a check upon himself.] Ha, ha! Why 
do you behave in this contemptible way? 

Sophy. 
It isn't contemptible. 

Quex. 
Isn't it? 

Sophy. 
Not under the circumstances. 

Quex. 
What circumstances? 

[ 127] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[Hotly.] A wicked man like you engaged to a sweet 
girl like Miss Muriel! 

Q u ex . 
I see. [Politely.] You don't approve of the engage- 
ment? 

Sophy. 
Should think not ! 

Quex. 
Always done your best to poison Miss Eden's mind 
against me, I expect? 

Sophy. 
Always let her know my opinion of you. And I was 
right ! 

Quex. 
Right? 

Sophy. 
This very day, poor thing, she was saying how proud 
she is of you because you've turned over a new leaf for 
her sake ; and I told her what your promises are worth. 
Yes, I was right ! And now I can prove it ! 

[He rises; she hastily places herself on the other 
side of the chair.] 

Quex. 
Look here ! [Leaning against the table, the chair being 
between him and Sophy.] What will you take to hold 
your tongue ? 

Sophy. 
Nothing. 

Quex. 
Oh, but wait. This isn't a matter of a handful of 
sovereigns. I'll give you a couple of thousand pounds to 
keep quiet about this. 

Sophy. 
No, thank you, my lord. 

[128] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex 



Four thousand. 








Sophy 


[Shai 


king her head.] 


No. 


Five. 




Quex. 


No. 




Sophy 


How 


much? 


Quex. 



Sophy. 
Not twenty thousand. I'm extremely comfortably off, 
my lord, but if I wasn't I wouldn't accept a penny of your 
money. All I wish is to save Miss Muriel from marry- 
ing a — a gentleman who isn't fit for her. And that's what 
I intend doing. 

[ They stand looking at each other for a moment, 
silently; then he walks away, thoughtfully.] 

Quex. 
[In an altered tone.] Come here. 

Sophy. 
[With an eye on the door.] Certainly not. 

Quex. 
As you please. Miss Fullgarney 

Sophy. 
I hear you. 

Quex. 
I should like to settle this business with you pleasantly 
— if possible. Allow me to say this. I don't think I am 
quite such an atrocious person as you appear to believe ; 
in fact I can assure you I am not. 

Sophy. 
[Gathering her robe about her and advancing a few 
steps.] You must excuse me, my lord, but — [glancing 
round the room] you evidently forget where you are. 

[ 129] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
No, I don't ; but I tell you — I tell you sincerely — that 
my visit to her Grace to-night was an innocent one. 

Sophy. 
[Turning her head away, in great disdain.] Really! 

Quex. 
Really. You won't accept money? 

Sophy. 
No, indeed, I will not. 

Quex. 
Very well. Ha ! it's an odd attitude for a man like my- 
self to adopt toward — [Indicating Sophy by a motion of 
the hand.] But I make an appeal to you. 

Sophy. 
[Elevating her eyebrozvs.] Appeal? 

Quex. 
[With simple feeling and dignity.] I love Miss Eden. 
I would be a good husband to that young lady. Let me 
off. 

Sophy. 
Let you off ? 

Quex. 
Don't tell on me. Don't try to rob me of Miss Eden. 
Let me off. 

Sophy. 
I'm sorry to say I can't, my lord. 

Quex. 
You won't? 

Sophy. 
I won't. [With a slight inclination of the head Quex 
turns away and stands leaning against the settee with 
his back tozvard Sophy. The clock strikes the quarter- 
of-an-hour. There is a short silence.] If your lordship 
has quite done with me ? [He makes no response. 

[130] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

She tosses her head.] I wish you good-night, my lord. 
[She goes to the passage-door and turns the handle.] 
It's locked. This door's locked. [Looking at him.] The 
door's locked. [Rattling at the door-handle.] Where's 
the key? [Searching about on the floor near the door.] 

Where's the ? [Coming forward a step or two.] Has 

your lordship got the key of this door? [Still obtaining 
no answer, she stands staring at him for a moment; then 
she goes quickly to the other door and tries the handle. 
As she does so, Quex turns sharply and, leaning upon 
the back of the settee, watches her. After shaking the 
door-handle vigorously, she ivhccls round and faces him, 
indignantly.] What's the meaning of this? 

Quex. 
[ Grimly. ] Ah ! 

Sophy. 

Oh ! [She sweeps round to avoid him, and then 

runs into the bedroom. When she has gone he scats him- 
self in the chair by the writing-table in a lacy attitude, his 
legs stretched out, his hands in his pockets. After a mo- 
ment or two she returns breathlessly]. I'm locked in! 



Yes. 




Quex. 






Sophy. 


You have locked 


me in! 


Yes. 




Quex. 


How dare 


you! 


Sophy. 



Quex. 
Why, you didn't think you were going to have it all 
your own way, did you, Sophy ? 

Sophy. 
I'll thank you to be less familiar. Let me out. 

[I3i] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U EX . 

Not I. 

Sophy. 
You let me out directly. 

Q u e x . 
[Pointing a finger at her.] You'll gain nothing- by 
raging, my good girl. Ha ! now you appreciate the curi- 
ously awkward position in which you have placed your- 
self. 

Sophy. 
I've placed myself in no 

Quex. 
Oh, come, come! Taking me at my blackest, I'm not 
quite the kind of man that a young woman who prides 
herself upon her respectability desires to be mixed up 
with in this fashion. 

Sophy. 
Mixed up with ! 

Quex. 
Well — [stretching out his arms] here we are, you know. 

Sophy. 
Here we are ! 

Quex. 
You and I, dear Sophy. [Putting his leg over the arm 
of his chair.] Now just sit down 

Sophy. 
I sha'n't. 

Quex. 
While I picture to you what will happen in the morn- 
ing. 

Sophy. 
In the morning? 

Quex. 
In a few hours' time. In the first place, you will be 
called in your room. You won't be there. 

[ 132 ] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
Won't I ! 

Q U E X . 

No. You won't be there. A little later my man will 
come to my room. I sha'n't be there. At about the same 
hour, her Grace will require your attendance. Where will 
you be? She will then, naturally, desire to return to her 
own apartments. You are intelligent enough, I fancy, to 
imagine the rest. [After a brief pause, she breaks into a 
peal of soft, derisive laughter.] I am deeply flattered by 
your enjoyment of the prospect. 

Sophy. 
Ha, ha, ha! why, you must take me for a fool! 

Quex. 
Why? 

Sophy. 
Why, can't you see that our being found together like 
this, here or anywhere, would do for you as well as for 
me? 

Quex. 
[Rising.] Of course I see it. [Advancing to her.] 
But, my dear Sophy, / am already done for. You pro- 
vide for that. And so, if I have to part with my last 
shred of character, I will lose it in association with a 
woman of your class rather than with a lady whom I, 
with the rest of the world, hold in the highest esteem. 

Sophy. 
[After a pause.] Ho! oh, indeed? 

Quex. 
Yes. Yes, indeed. 

Sophy. 
[With a shade less confidence.] Ha, ha! if your lord- 
ship thinks to frighten me, you've got hold of the wrong 
customer. Ha, ha, ha ! two or three things you haven't 
reckoned for, I can assure you. Here's one — I told Miss 

[ 133] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel exactly what I heard, between you and your Duch- 
ess, in the garden this evening. 

Quex. 
[Grinding his teeth.] You did ! [Involuntarily mak- 
ing a threatening movement toward her.] You did, 

you ! 

Sophy. 
[Cozvering over the settee.] Oh! 

Quex. 
[Recovering himself.] Oh, you did, did you? 

Sophy. 
[Facing him defiantly.] Yes, I did. 

Quex. 
[Coolly.] Well? and what then? You listen to a con- 
versation carried on in an open spot, from which your 
mischievous ears manage to detach the phrase " to-night." 
My explanation, if I am called upon to make one, will be 
absurdly simple. 

Sophy. 
[Derisively.] Ha, ha ! will it! ha, ha, ha ! I daresay! 

Quex. 
Yes. You see, I promised her Grace that I would send 
a book to her room to-night — to-night. My man had 
gone to bed ; I brought it myself, intending to hand it to 
Mrs. Watson, her maid. In the meantime, the Duchess- 
had joined Mrs. Eden and I found you here. 

Sophy. 
You couldn't tell such an abominable lie ! 

Quex. 
[Imperturbably.] I found yon here. And then — 
what is the obvious sequel to the story? [Shrugging his 
shoulders.] I'm a wicked man, Sophy, and you're an 
undeniably pretty girl — and the devil dared me. 

[134] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 

Oh ! 

Quex. 
[Taking up the bottle of champagne.] And an excel- 
lent banquet you had chanced to provide for the occasion. 
[Reading the label.] " Felix Poubelle, Carte d'Or." It 
will appear, I am afraid, that you had been preparing for 
the entertainment of some amorous footman. 

Sophy. 
[Snapping her fingers at him.] Puh ! bah! Oh, the 
whole house shall know that that is your Duchess's cham- 
pagne. 

Quex. 
Excuse me — Mr. Brewster, the butler, will disprove 
that tale. You wheedled this out of him on your own ac- 
count, remember. 

Sophy. 
[Disconcerted.] Oh — ah, yes — but 

Quex. 
For yourself, my dear Sophy. 

Sophy. 
[Falteringly.] Yes, but — but she made me do it. 

Quex. 
She made you do it! [Replacing the bottle, sternly.] 
And who, pray, will accept your word, upon this or any 
other point, against that of a lady of the position of tie 
Duchess of Strood? 

[He walks azvay from her and examines the 
books upon the writing-table. She sits on 
the settee, a blank expression upon her face. 

Sophy. 
[After a little consideration, zviping her brow with the 
back of her hand.] At and rate, my darling — Miss Muriel 
— would quickly see through a horrid trick of this sort. 

[135 1 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U E X . 

I bet you a dozen boxes of gloves to a case of your 
manicure instruments that she doesn't. 

Sophy. 
I said to her to-day, at my place, that I was certain, 
if I could meet you alone in some quiet spot I could get 
a kiss out of you. 

Quex. 
[Under his breath, glaring at her.] You ! [Cool- 
ly.] Oh, now I understand. Yes, my dear, but Miss 
Eden is scarcely likely to believe that a modest girl would 
carry her devotion to this extent. Good heavens ! why, 

your attire ! [She pulls her robe about her sharply.] 

And a woman who compromises herself, recollect, is never 
measured by her own character, always by her compan- 
ion's. 

[She starts to her feet and paces the room, ut- 
tering cries of anger and indignation. He 
continues to interest himself in the books.] 

Sophy. 
Oh ! no, no ! my darling wouldn't think it of me ! when 
I've abused you so continually ! she surely couldn't ! oh ! 
oh! [With Hashing eyes.] Now, look here, my lord! 
you don't really imagine that I'm going to stick in this 
room with you patiently all through the night, do you? 

Quex. 
How do you propose to avoid it? 

Sophy. 
[Pointing to the passage-door.] As true as I'm alive, 
if you don't unlock that door, I — I — I'll scream the place 
down! 

Quex. 
Why scream? [Pointing to the bell-rope which hangs 
beside the door.] There's the bell. I daresay a servant 

r 136] 

\ 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

or two are still up and about. You'd rouse the house 
quicker in that way. 

Sophy. 

Much obliged to you for the hint. I will — I will 

[She goes to the bell-rope and grasps it; then she looks 
round and sees him calmly turning the leaves of a book 
he has selected. She stares at him, with sudden misgiv- 
ing.] Ha, now we shall see how much your grand 
scheme amounts to ! 

Q U E X . 

We shall. Ring the bell. 

Sophy. 
[Blankly.] What do you mean? 

Quex. 
Pooh, my dear ! ring, ring, ring ! or yell ! You won't 
be the first semi-circumspect young person who has got 
herself into a scrape and then endeavored to save her- 
self by raising a hullabaloo. 

[She slowly takes her hand from the bell-rope 
and moves a step or two tozvard him.] 

Sophy. 
Oh, that's what you'd try to make out, is it? [He 
raises his eyes from his book and gives her a significant 
look. Leaning upon the arm of the settee, she says 
fa intly : ] You — you ! 

Quex. 
Yes, I tell you again, my dear, you have got yourself 
into a shocking mess. You've got me into a mess, and 
you've got yourself in a mess. 

Sophy. 
[Pulling herself up and advancing to him till she faces 
him.] You — you are an awful blackguard, my lord. 

[ 137] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
Thank you, my dear. But you're not far wrong — I was 
a blackguard till I met Miss Eden ; and now, losing Miss 
Eden, perhaps I'm going to be a bigger blackguard than 
before. At the same time, you know, there's not much 
to choose between us ; for you're a low spy, an impudent, 
bare-faced liar, a common kitchen-cat who wriggles into 
the best rooms, gets herself fondled, and then spits. 
[Passing her and throwing himself, full-length, upon the 
settee and settling himself to read.] Therefore I've no 
compunction in making you pay your share of this score, 
my dear Sophy — none whatever. 

[She walks feebly to the passage-door and 
stands rattling the handle in an uncertain 
way. At last she breaks down and cries a 
little. ] 

Sophy. 
Oh ! oh ! oh ! let me go, my lord. [He makes no re- 
sponse.] Do let me go — please! will you? [Approach- 
ing him and wiping her eyes upon the sleeve of her night- 
dress.] I hope your lordship will kindly let me go. 

Quex. 
[Shortly.] No. 

[Steadying herself.] I don't want to rouse the house 

at this time o' night if I can help it 

Quex. 
Don't you? 

Sophy. 
Though I am certain I can make my story good any- 
way. But I'd rather your lordship let me out without the 
bother — [Piteously.] Do! [He turns a leaf of his book. 
She speaks defiantly.] Very well! very well! here I sit 
then ! [Seating herself.] We'll see who tires first, you 
or I! you or I! [Again snapping her fingers at him.] 
Bah ! you horror ! you — horror ! 

[ 138] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Quex. 
[Raising himself on his elbow.] Will you have this 
sofa? [She gives him a fierce look.] A glass of your 
wine? 

[She rises, with a stamp of the foot, and once 
more paces the room. He sips his wine and 
resettles himself. She goes distractedly 
from one object to another, now leaning upon 
a chair, then against the pillar of the cheval- 
glass. Ultimately she comes to the bell-rope 
and fingers it again irresolutely.] 

Sophy. 

[Faintly.] My lord ! [He remains silent. She 

releases the bell-rope.] Oh — h — h! [She pauses by the 
settee, looking down upon him as though she would 
strike him; then she walks away, and, seating herself 
in the chair by the bedside, drops her head upon the bed. 
The clock tinkles the half-hour. There is a short silence. 
Suddenly she rises, uttering a sharp cry, with her hand 
to her heart.] Oh! [panting] oh! oh! 

Quex. 
[Looking at her.] What now? 



Valma ! 
Valma ? 



Sophy. 
Quex. 



Sophy. 
Mr. Valma ! oh, you know he is in the house! 

Quex. 
He! what's he doing here? 

Sophy. 
The housekeeper gave him permission to sleep here. 
You know! [Stamping her foot.] Don't you know? 

[139] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
[Sitting up, alertly.] Ho! my jealous friend, the palm- 
ist. He is on the premises, hey ? 

Sophy. 
[Distractedly.] Let me out! oh, yes, he is jealous of 
me ; he is jealous of me, and we've had a few words about 

you as it is 

Quex. 
Ah! 

Sophy. 
Oh, this would ruin me with Valma ! oh, if your lord- 
ship hasn't any feeling for me, don't let Valma think that 

I'm a — that I'm ! [Going down on her knees before 

him.] Oh, I won't tell on you! I promise I won't, if 
you'll only let me go ! I will hold my tongue about you 
and the Duchess! I take my solemn oath I'll hold my 
tongue ! 

Quex. 
[Rising.] Ha! [Calmly.] No, my dear Sophy, I 
wasn't aware that your fiance is in the house. So the 
situation comes home to you a little more poignantly now, 
does it? 

Sophy. 
[Rising and going to the passage-door.] Unlock the 
door ! where's the key ? 

Quex. 
Wait, wait, wait ! And you're going to keep your 
mouth shut after all, are you? 

Sophy. 
[Rattling the door-handle.] Yes, yes. Unlock it! 

Quex. 
Don't be in such a hurry. 

Sophy. 
I give you my sacred word 

[ HO] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
[Thoughtfully.] Tsch, tsch, tsch! [Sharply, with a 
snap of the fingers.] Yes — by Jove — ! [Pointing to the 
chair by the writing-table.] Sit down. [Imperatively.] 
Sit down. [She sits, wonderingly. He goes to the table, 
selects a plain sheet of paper and lays it before her. Then 
he hands her a pen.] Write as I tell you. 



Sophy. 




[Tremblingly.] What? 




Quex. 




[Pointing to the ink.] Ink. [Dictating.] ' 


' My lord." 


[She writes; he walks about as he dictates.] 


" My lord, 


I am truly obliged to you " 




Sophy. 




Yes. 




Quex. 




" For your great liberality " 





Sophy. 
[Turning.] Eh? 

Quex. 
[Sternly.] Goon. [She writes.] " For your great 
liberality, and in once more availing myself of it I quite 

understand " 

Sophy. 
[Weakly.] Oh! [After writing.] Yes. 

Quex. 
" I quite understand that our friendship comes to an 
end." [She rises and faces him.] Go on. 



Our friendship! 

Yes. 

Our — friendship ! 



Sophy 
Quex. 
Sophy 

[ Hi ] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
Yes. 

Sophy. 
I won't. 

Quex. 
Very well. 

Sophy. 
How dare you try to make me write such a thing ! [He 
turns from her and, book in hand, resumes his recum- 
bent position on the sofa. She approaches him, faltcr- 
ingly.] What would you do with that, if I did write it? 

Quex. 
Simply hold it in my possession, as security for your 
silence, until after my marriage with Miss Eden ; then 
return it to you. 

Sophy. 
Oh, won't your lordship trust me ? 

Quex. 
[Contemptuously.] Trust you! [After a pause, she 
returns to the writing-table and takes up her pen again.] 
Where were we? 

Sophy. 
[Feebly.] "I quite understand " 

Quex. 
" That our friendship comes to an end." [She writes. 
He rises and looks over her shoulder.] " While thank- 
ing you again for past and present favors " 

Sophy. 
[ Groaning as she writes. ] Oh ! oh ! 

Quex. 
" I undertake not to approach or annoy you in the 

future " 

Sophy. 
Oh! 

[142] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
" Upon any pretext whatsoever. Yours respect- 
fully " [After watching the completion of the letter.] 

Date it vaguely — [with a wave of the hand] " Monday 
afternoon." Blot it. [Moving away.] That's right. 
[She rises, reading the letter with staring eyes. Then 
she comes to him and yields the letter, and he folds it 
neatly and puts it into his breast-pocket.] Thank you. I 
think I need detain you no longer. 

Sophy. 
[With a gasp.] Ah ! stop a bit ! no, I won't ! 

Quex. 
What's the matter with you? 

Sophy. 
[Wildly.] Why, it's like selling Muriel! Just to get 
myself out of this, I'm simply handing her over to you! 
I won't do it ! I won't ! [She rushes to the bell-rope and 
tugs at it again and again.] She sha'n't marry you! she 
sha'n't ! I've said she sha'n't, and she sha'n't ! [Leaving 
the bell-rope and facing him fiercely.] Oh, let your prec- 
ious Duchess go scot free ! After all, what does it matter 
who the woman is you've been sporting with, so that Miss 
Muriel is kept from falling into your clutches ! Yes, I'll 
make short work of you, my lord. The ladies shall hear 
from my mouth of the lively half-hour I've spent with 
you, and how I've suddenly funked the consequences and 
raised a hullabaloo! Now, my lord! now then! now 
then! 

[His astonishment has given way to admiration ; 
he gases at her as if spell-bound.] 

Quex. 
[After a pause, during which she stands before him 
panting.] By God, you're a fine plucked 'un ! I've never 
known a better. [Resolutely.] No, my girl, I'm damned 

[143] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

if you shall suffer ! Quick ! listen ! pull yourself to- 
gether ! 

Sophy. 
[Hysterically.] Eh? eh? 

Quex. 
[Taking her letter from his pocket and thrusting it into 
her hand.] Here's your letter! take it — I won't have it. 
[Going quickly to the passage-door, unlocking it, and 
throwing the door open.] There you are! 

Sophy. 
[Sobbing.] Oh! oh! 

[There is a hurried, irregular knocking at the 
door.] 

Quex. 
[Gripping her arm.] Hush! [In a whisper.] Call 
out — wait ! 

Sophy. 
[Raising her voice — unsteadily.] Wait — one moment! 

Quex. 
[In her ear, as he gives her the key of the door.] Say 
the Duchess is with Mrs. Jack ; say she wants her letters 
brought to her in the morning! say anything 

Sophy. 
Yes, yes. [Weeping and shaking and gasping, she 
goes to the door and unlocks it. He tip-toes into the bed- 
room and turns out the light there. She opens the door 
an inch or two.] Yes? 

Two Voices. 
[A man's and a woman's.] What is it? what's the 
matter ? 

Sophy. 
[Steadying herself, with an effort.] Nothing. Only 
her Grace has gone to Mrs. Eden's room and wishes her 

[ 144] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

letters taken there in the morning most particularly — 
see? 

The Voices. 
What did you ring like that for? Thought the place 
was afire ! 

Sophy. 
Oh, don't make a fuss about nothing. You servants 
are an old-fashioned lot. Bong swor! 

The Voices. 
[Angrily.] Oh, good-night. 

Sophy. 
Ha, ha, ha! 

[She closes the door and totters azvay from it, 
sobbing hysterically, as Quex conies to her.] 

Quex. 
[Kindly.] Be off. Go to bed. Serve me how you 
please. Miss Fullgarney, upon my soul, I — I humbly 
beg your pardon. 

Sophy. 
[Passing him.] Oh! oh! oh! [Turning to him.] 
Oh, God bless you ! You — you — you're a gentleman ! 
I'll do what I can for you ! 

[She staggers to the passage-door and disap- 
pears, closing the door behind her. Then he 
extinguishes the remaining light, and cau- 
tiously lets himself out at the other door.] 



END OF THE THIRD ACT. 



[145] 




THE FOURTH ACT 



The scene is the same, in every respect, as that of the 
First Act. 

[On the right Miss Claridge is manicuring a 
young gentleman. On the left Miss Moon 
is putting her manicure-table in order, as if 
she has recently disposed of a customer. 
Miss Limbird is again at her desk, busy over 
accounts. The door-gong sounds and, after 
a short interval, Quex and Frayne enter, 
preceded by Miss Huddle. Frayne appears 
particularly depressed and unwell.] 

Quex. 
[Nodding to Miss Limbird.] Good-morning. 

Miss Limbird. 
Morning. 

Quex. 
[To Miss Huddle.] Miss Fullgarney has not yet ar- 
rived, you say? 

Miss Huddle. 
Not yet. 

Quex. 
[Looking at Jiis watch.] Twenty minutes to twelve. 

[ 146] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Miss Moon. 
Yes, we've never known Miss Fullgarney to be so late 
at her business. I do hope she hasn't been run over and 
injured. 

Miss Huddle. 
Or murdered by tramps. 

Q u e x . 
My dear young lady ! 

Miss Moon. 
Well, one does read such things in the ha'penny papers. 

Miss Huddle. 
And she went down to Richmond yesterday afternoon, 
you know — to Fauncey Court. 

Quex. 
Of course I know — and slept there. 

Miss Moon. 
Oh, did she? 

Quex. 
And has come up to town this morning. 

Miss Huddle. 
Then she'll have gone home, I expect, to change. 

Miss Moon. 
That's what she's done. [Slightly disappointed.] 
Well, I should have been sorry if anything had happened 
to her. 

Quex. 

Naturally. 

Miss Huddle. 
So should I, though I'm quite new here. 

Miss Moo n . 
It never gives me any pleasure to hear of people having 
their limbs crushed. 

[ 147] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Miss Huddle. 
Or being murdered by tramps. 

Miss Moon. 
Won't your lordship take a chair? [To Frayne, who 
has wandered dozvn to the window.] And you, sir? 

[The young gentleman, his manicuring being 
finished, has risen, paid Miss Limbird and 
departed, follozvcd by Miss Claridge carry- 
ing her bowl and towel. The door-gong 
sounds.] 

Quex. 
Is that she? 

Miss Moon. 
No; that young gentleman leaving. 

[Miss Moon, carrying her bowl and towel, and 
Miss Huddle, after exchanging a few words 
with Miss Limbird, withdraw.] 

Frayne. 
[To Quex, biliously.] How revoltingly hideous these 
gals look this morning ! 

Quex. 
Same as yesterday. You're seedy. 

Frayne. 
[Closing his eyes.] Oh, shockingly seedy. [Sitting.] 
I'm in for a go of malaria, I fear. 

Quex. 
Shame of me to have routed you out of bed and both- 
ered you with my affairs. [Sitting.] But you can quite 
understand, Chick, how confoundedly anxious I am as 
to the attitude Miss Fullgarney will adopt toward me 
to-day. 

Frayne. 
Quite, quite. Harry 

[ US] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Q U E X . 

Yes? 

Frayne. 
What champagne was it we drank last night at Rich- 
mond ? 

Q u e x . 
[With some bitterness.] Ha! " Felix Poubelle, Carte 
d'Or." 

Frayne. 
[Shaking his head.] I can't take champagne. 

Quex. 
Can't you ! 

Frayne. 
I mean I oughtn't to. 

Quex. 
Oh. [Referring to his watch again.] I've given you 
a pretty minute account of last night's tragedy, Chick. 
" I'll do what I can for you " — those were the Fullgar- 
ney's words. Good lord, they came at me like a bolt from 
the blue! Does she intend to act up to them, eh? — that's 
the question. Surely she'll act up to them, Chick? 

Frayne. 
Have you met the ladies this morning? 

Quex. 
Yes — except Muriel, who didn't show at breakfast. 

Frayne. 
How did you find 'em ? 

Quex. 
Amiability itself ; they know nothing. [Rising and 
looking down upon Frayne.] You see, Chick, all that 
Miss Fullgarney has to do — if she hasn't already done it 
— is to tell a trifling taradiddle to Muriel concerning the 
events of last night. Well, in effect, she has promised 
to do that, hasn't she? [Impatiently.] Eh? 

[ 149] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Frayne. 
[Gloomily.] Frankly, Harry, I shouldn't be in the least 
surprised if the jade sold you. 

Quex. 
[His jaw falling.] You wouldn't? 

Frayne. 
No. 

Quex. 
Phew! /should. [Warmly.] By Jove, I should ! 

Frayne. 
I have conceived a great aversion to her — a long, 
scraggy gal. 

Quex. 
[With enthusiasm.] As full of courage as a thorough- 
bred! 

Frayne. 
[Closing his eyes.] I can picture her elbows; sharp, 
pointed elbows — the barbed fence of the spiteful woman. 

Quex. 
Pooh ! yesterday she was alluring. 

Frayne. 

[Rising painfully.] Yesterday ! [Gravely.] 

Harry, do you know there are moments when I feel that 
I am changing toward the sex ; when I fancy I can dis- 
cern the skeleton, as it were, through the rounded cheek ? 

Quex. 
You! 

Frayne. 
Yes, this novel sentiment is undoubtedly gaining pos- 
session of your old friend — gradually, perhaps, but surely. 

Quex. 
[Regarding him searchingly.] Excuse me, Chick — 
did you turn into the Beefsteak when you got back from 
Richmond last night? 

[ISO] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Frayne. 
For an hour. Oh, a great mistake. 

Quex. 
What, a little whiskey on the top of champagne? 

Frayne. 
[Gazing pathetically at Quex with watery eyes.] A 
good deal of champagne underneath a lot of whiskey. 

[The door-gong sounds.] 

Quex. 

Who's this? [He zvalks to the entrance, and looks into 
the further room.] The Fullgarney. 

[He returns to his former position, as Sophy 
enters quickly, follozved by Miss Claridge, 
Miss Moon, and Miss Huddle. Sophy — 
dressed as at the end of the First Act — is pale, 
red-eyed, and generally unstrung. She comes 
to Quex, disconcerted by his presence.] 

Sophy. 
[Confronting him.] Oh, good-morning. 

Quex. 
May I beg a few moments ? 

Sophy. 

Er — certainly. I'll just take off my things 

[He joins Frayne. She goes across the room 
where she is surrounded by her girls.] 

Miss Claridge. 
Oh, Miss Fullgarney, how ill you look ! 

Miss Moon. 
You do seem queer! 

Miss Huddle. 
Just as if you were sickening for something. 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Miss Limbird. 

[Coming between Miss Claridge and Sophy.] Quite 
ghostly ! 

Sophy. 

I'm all right, girls; I've had a bad night, that's all. 
[Giving her umbrella to Miss Claridge and her bag to 
Miss Moon, ivho passes it to Miss Huddle.] Here ! hi ! 
take that beastly bag. [To Miss Limbird, zvho is remov- 
ing her hat.] Oh, don't waggle my head, whatever you 
do! [To Miss Moon, who is pulling at her jacket.] 
Tear the thing off. [Stripping off her gloves, and speak- 
ing in a whisper.] Girls, I don't want to be disturbed 
for five minutes. 

Miss Limbird. 

Very well, Miss Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 
[Glancing at Quex and Frayne, zvho are now look- 
ing out of the window, with their backs toward her.] 
If Miss Eden should happen to turn up before I'm free, 
just mention who I'm engaged with, will you? 

Miss Moon. 
Yes, Miss Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 
That'll do. [With sudden fierceness.] What are you 
all staring at? Haven't any of you ever slept in a strange 

bed? 

[The girls retreat hastily, each carrying an ar- 
ticle belonging to Sophy.] 

Quex. 
[Advancing a step or tzvo.] I am exceedingly sorry 
to see you looking so fatigued. 

Sophy. 
[Faintly.] Didn't close my eyes the whole night. 
[She drops the portiere over the entrance, and approaches 
Quex.] Well, my lord? 

I 152] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
I have ventured to call upon you, Miss Fullgarney, in 
the hope of ratifying the excellent understanding with 
which we parted last night. 

Sophy. 
[Pointing to Frayne.] Well, but — er 

Quex. 

Oh — oh, yes [To Frayne, who has turned aivay.] 

Frayne [To Sophy.] 1 have taken my old and 

trusted friend, Sir Chichester Frayne, into my confidence 
in this regrettable business. 

Sophy. 
[Dubiously.] Indeed? 

Quex. 
I thought it desirable there should be a third party 

Sophy. 
P'r'aps you're right. [Cuttingly.] One needs a third 
party when one has the honor of meeting your lordship — 
[checking herself]. Excuse me. 

Quex. 
[Pleasantly, zvith a slight bow of acknowledgment.] 
Before we go further, I may tell you that her Grace has 
informed me of what passed between you this morning. 

Sophy. 



Nothing passed. 
Precisely. 



Quex 



Sophy. 
The lady beamed upon me, for all the world as if she 
was an angel spending a Saturday-to-Monday here be- 
low ; and I dressed her hair for her just as if I didn't 
want to tear it out by the roots. And then she turned 
up her eyes and said she hoped every happiness would 
attend me, and went downstairs to prayers. 

[ 153] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. ■ 
Will you allow me to — to thank you? 

Sophy. 
[Frigidly.] You needn't. [Abruptly.] Oh, by-the- 
by, the lady gave me a — a keepsake, she called it. [En- 
deavoring to extract some bulky object from her pocket.] 
I mean to burn the thing, once I've found out what's 
inside it. But I can't get it open. Here it is. 

[She exhibits the little box, covered with bro- 
cade, which Quex has returned to the Duch- 
ess in the previous Act.] 

Quex. 
[Surprised.] By Jove! 

Sophy. 
[Simply.] Eh? 

Quex. 
Er — I was wondering what she can have put in that 
little box. 

Sophy. 
Yes, / wonder. [Pulling at the lid.] It's locked. 

Quex. 
I fancy it has one of those Bramah locks which snap. 

I may have a key [He produces his key-ring and, 

promptly selecting a key, unlocks the box.] Fortunate 
coincidence. 

[She opens the box and takes out the first thing 
that presents itself — the blue silk garter zvith 
the diamond buckle.] 

Sophy. 
[Scandalised.] Oh, my gracious! I beg your pardon. 
[She leaves him hurriedly and hides the box 
in the cabinet.] 

I 154 1 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
[Quietly to Frayne.] Chick, she has passed the sou- 
venirs on to Miss Fullgarney ! 

Frayne. 
[Bitterly.] How like a woman! 

Quex. 
Some women. 

Frayne. 
[In disgust.] Pah! 

Quex. 
Yesterday she was alluring. 

Frayne. 
[Waving the past front him.] Yesterday — [with a 
slight hiccup] hie! [Turning azvay apologetically.] The 

heat in this room 

[He zvalks azvay, as Sophy returns to Quex.] 

Quex. 
[To Sophy.] Well, I must not detain you longer, Miss 
Fullgarney. But there is, of course, one point upon which 
I should like to feel completely assured. You have seen 

Miss Eden ? 

Sophy. 
No ; not since last evening. 

Quex. 
[Anxiously.] When do you ? 



Sophy. 
[Looking azvay.] I'm rather expecting her to pop in 
here during the day. 

Quex. 
Quite so. And — and then ? 

Sophy. 
[Facing him candidly.] Your lordship told me last 
night that your little visit to the Duchess was a perfectly 
innocent one? 

[ 1551 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
Absolutely innocent. [Hesitatingly.] I fear I cannot 
go further than that. 

Frayne. 
[Fanning himself with his handkerchief.] By gad, 
why not, Harry? We are in Miss Fullgarney's hands. 
[To Sophy.] His lordship went to her Grace's apart- 
ment solely to return some gifts which he had accepted 
from her in the — ah — dim, distant past, and to say adieu. 

Sophy. 
[Wither in gly.] Ah, I knew she was a double-faced 
thing [looking at Quex rclcntingly] ; but p'r'aps one has 
been a little down on yon. 

Quex. 
[Meekly.] You have it in your power to atone for that 
amply. 

Sophy. 
[Half feelingly, half sullenly.] At any rate, you be- 
haved, in the end, like a gentleman to me last night. And 
so — when I see Miss Muriel 

Quex. 

Yes? 

Sophy. 
[Deliberately.] I am going to tell her a lie. 

Quex. 
[With some emotion.] Miss Fullgarney, I — I 



Sophy. 
Oh, I said I'd do what I can for you. [Uncomfort- 
ably.] And this is all I can do. 

Quex. 

[Light-heartedly.] All ! 

Sophy. 
Just to give you a chance. 

[156] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Q U E X . 

Chance! [Drawing a deep breath.] You place my 
happiness beyond danger. 

Sophy. 
[Impulsively, offering him her hand.] I wish you 
luck, my lord. [He takes her hand and wrings it.] 

F R A Y N E . 

[Who has opened the window for air.] Hallo! 

Sophy. 
[Turning nervously.] What ? 

Frayne. 
[Looking out.] Isn't this your friend, Captain Bast- 
ling? 

Quex. 
Bastling? 

Frayne. 
At that window? 

[Frayne moves away to the circular table and 
sniffs at a bottle of scent. Quex goes to the 
window. ] 

Quex. 
[Looking out.] Yes. What's old Napier up to there? 

Sophy. 

[Guiltily.] I — I heard Captain Bastling mention that 
he was thinking of having his hand read by Mr. Valma 
some time or other. 

Quex. 

No! ha, ha, ha! [Leaving the window.] He doesn't 
see me; I won't disturb him. [To Sophy, jocularly.] 
A convenient arrangement — it is possible to transfer one's 
self from the manicurist to the palmist without the trouble 
of putting on one's gloves. 

Sophy. 
Ha, ha! y — yes. 

[157] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Quex. 
[Pausing on his way to the entrance] Miss Fullgar- 
ney, may I ask if you and Mr. Valma have fixed upon 
the date of your marriage ? 

Sophy. 
Oh, we sha'n't get married yet awhile — not for a year 
or more, I fancy. 

Quex. 
[Graciously. ] In that ease, I shall hope to have the 
pleasure, and the privilege, of being present at your wed- 
ding — with my wife. 

Sophy. 
[Hanging her head.] Thank you. 

Quex. 
Chick . [He goes out.] 

Frayne. 
[Turning to Sophy with dignity.] Miss Fullgarney, 
one thing I desire to say. It is that your behavior this 

morning completely obliterates — the 

[He is cut short by another hiccup and, with a 
bow, withdraws. Pollitt appears at the 
windozv. Sophy goes to the entrance, and 
watches the departure of Quex and Frayne. 
Pollitt enters the room. The door-gong 
sounds.] 

Pollitt. 
Sophy. 

Sophy. 
[Turning.] Oh! Valma, dear? 

Pollitt. 
[With a heavy brozv.] Captain Bastling is waiting at 
my place, for Miss Eden. 

Sophy. 
[Subdued.] Is he? 

[ 158] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

P O L L I TT . 

Dearest, during my brief but, I pride myself, honorable 
association with palmistry, this is the first time my rooms 
have been used for this sort of game. 

Sophy. 
This sort of game? 

POLLITT. 

Other Professors have stooped to it, but I — oh, no, it 
is playing palmistry a little bit too low down. 

Sophy. 
[Unhappily.] Surely it's quite harmless, love — a 
couple of young people meeting to say good-by. 

POLLITT. 

From what you've told me, I greatly doubt that it will 
be good-by. 

Sophy. 
D — d — do you ? 

P o L L i tt . 
{Hotly. ] Anyhow I resent your being the go-between 
of this gallant captain and a girl betrothed to another man 
— you who are naturally such a thorough lady ! 

Sophy. 

Oh— oh, Valma ! 

[She drops her head upon his shoulder and 
whimpers.] 

P o L L I t t . 
Dearest, what have I said? 

Sophy. 
Valma, I've made up my mind. I intend to do exactly 
what you wish, in the future, in everything. I'm going 
to give up squatting down here manicuring gentle- 
men 

P o L L I t t . 
Sophy ! 

[ 159] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Sophy. 
And shall simply sail about these rooms, overlooking 
my girls in the plainest of silks. And never again will I 
interfere in an underhand way in other people's affairs 
on any account whatever. [Putting her arms round his 
neck.] Yes, you shall find me a lady — a lady 

POLLITT. 

[Tenderly.] Ah ! [The door-gong sounds. She 

raises her head and dries her eyes hurriedly.] Is that 
Miss Eden? 

[He crosses to the window as she goes to the 
entrance. Miss Limbird appears.] 

Miss Limbird. 
[To Sophy.] Here's Miss Eden. 

Sophy. 
[With a nod.] Give me half a minute with her; then 
I'm at liberty. [Miss Limbird disappears. Sophy 
conies to Pollitt. ] I'll send Muriel across directly. 

[He departs. Miss Limbird returns and, hold- 
ing the portiere aside, admits Muriel. Mu- 
riel is wearing a veil. Miss Limbird with- 
draws. Sophy meets Muriel; they kiss each 
other undcmonstratively. ] 

Sophy. 
[Constrainedly.] Well, darling? 

Muriel. 
[In the same way.] Well, Sophy? 



You're here then? 
As you see. 
Any difficulty? 



Sophy. 

Muriel 

Sophy. 

[ 160] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
[In a hard voice.] No. The Duchess and Mrs. Jack 
were coming to town shopping, and Lady Owbridge pro- 
posed that she and I should tack ourselves on to them. 

Sophy. 
How have you got rid of 'em? 

Muriel. 
Spoken the truth, for once — my head really does throb 
terribly. They think I've run in here to sit quietly with 
you while they [Suddenly.] Oh, be quick, Sophy! 

Sophy. 
Quick, dear? 

Muriel. 
Why don't you tell me ? 

Sophy. 
Tell you ? 

Muriel. 

About last night — this woman 

Sophy. 
Her Grace? 

Muriel. 
Yes, yes. 

Sophy. 

Oh, why, I haven't anything to tell, darling. 

Muriel. 
Haven't anything to ? 

Sophy. 
You see, I couldn't help remembering what you'd called 
me — mean, and despicable, and all the rest of it ; and the 
feeling came over me that you were right, that I had been 
sneaky. And so, after I'd attended to her Grace, I — I 
went straight to bed. 

[ 161 1 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
[Sitting.'] Oh, yes. Then you didn't attempt to- 



Sophy. 
Muriel, 

Sophy. 
Muriel 



to watch? 

No. 

[Faintly.] Oh! 

Aren't you glad ? 

Glad ! 

Sophy. 
Why, you were certain that the word or two I'd over- 
heard meant nothing wrong. 

Muriel. 
I said so. 

Sophy. 
Said so! 

Muriel. 
[Turning to her with clenched hands.] Yes, but at 
the same time you put the dreadful idea into my head, 
Sophy, and I've not been able to dismiss it for one moment 
since. 

Sophy. 
[Under her breath.] Oh! [Sitting.] 

Muriel. 
[Lifting her veil.] There ! you can see what I've been 
going through. 

Sophy. 
[Looking at her.] I'm so sorry. 

Muriel. 
[Looking at Sophy.] You look rather washed out too. 
Haven't you slept, either? 

[ 162 ] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
[Turning her head away.] Not over well. [Falter- 
ingly.] Then, after all, it would have been better if I 
had spied on her? 

Muriel. 
Anything — even that — would have been preferable to 
this uncertainty. 

Sophy. 
[ To herself, her jaw falling. J Oh ! 

Muriel. 
[Looking toward the zvindozv.] Has he arrived? 

Sophy. 
Yes. [Muriel rises, then Sophy.] 

Muriel. 
[Producing, from her pocket, a jeweller's case and 
showing it to Sophy.] Do you like this? I've just 
bought it, over the way, at Gressier's. 

Sophy. 
For Captain Bastling? 

Muriel. 
[With a nod, opening the box.] A solitaire shirt-stud. 
[She retains a neatly-folded piece of paper 
which is enclosed in the box and hands the 
box to Sophy.] 

Sophy. 
Beautiful. [Glancing at the piece of paper in Mu- 
riel's hand.] What's that? 

Muriel. 
[Unfolding the paper care f idly.] This goes with it. 
[She holds the paper before Sophy.] 

Sophy. 
[Reading.] " To Napier " 

[163] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
[Withdrawing the paper.] Ah, no. 

Sophy. 
Mayn't I ? 

Muriel. 
[Yielding the paper impulsively.] Yes, you may. 

[Muriel turns away and stands leaning upon 
the back of the screen-chair, with her face 
in her hands. Sophy places the jezveller's 
case upon the circular table.] 

Sophy. 
[Reading with difficulty.] " To Napier from Muriel. 
I only " what ? You have blotted it. 

Muriel. 
[With a sob.] Havel? 

Sophy. 
You've been crying over it. 

Muriel. 
Yes. 

Sophy. 
" I only 1 " I can't read it. 

Muriel. 
[Through her tears.] 

" I only know — we loved in vain : 
I only feel — Farewell ! — Farewell ! " 

Sophy. 
[In a lozv voice.] Very nice, darling. [She lays the 
paper tenderly upon the box and goes to Muriel. Eying 
her keenly.] You really are determined, then, to wish 
him good-by? 

Muriel. 
[Turning to her and weeping upon her shoulder.] Oh, 
Sophy ! Sophy ! 

[164] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Sophy. 
There, there ! it'll soon be over. 

Muriel. 
[Raising her head.] Over! yes, yes! over! 

Sophy. 
And — p'r'aps it's all for the best, you know. 

Muriel. 
For the best ! 

Sophy. 
What I mean is, that very likely we've both of us been 
a little cruel to poor Lord Quex — hard on him 

Muriel. 
[Indignantly.] You say this to me! [Distractedly.] 
You say this, after having poisoned my mind and given 
me an awful night of sleeplessness and doubt. Yesterday 
I was as firm as a rock ; to-day I'm as weak as water 
again. [Facing Sophy with flashing eyes.] . Ah, I tell 
you honestly you'd better not let me meet Captain Bas- 
tling this morning! you'd better not let me see him! 

[The door-gong sounds. Bastling appears at 
the window, and looks into the room.] 

Sophy. 
[Whose back is tozvard the window, soothingly.] No, 
no, you sha'n't go across to Valma's while you're like 
this. I'll make an excuse for you to Captain Bastling 

Bastling. 
[At the window.] Muriel! 

Muriel. 
[Passing Sophy swiftly.] Napier! 

Sophy. 

[Holding her arm.] Darling 

[165] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Muriel. 
[Freeing herself.) Release me, Sophy! release me! 

ah ! 

[She joins Bastling and they disappear. As 
Sophy goes to the window and looks out after 
them, Quex enters, folloived by Frayne.] 

Quex. 
[Glancing round the room.] Miss Fullgarney 

Sophy. 
[Turning sharply.] Hey? [Blankly.] Oh — my 

lord ! 

Quex. 
I am compelled to intrude upon you again. I have 
just met Lady Owbridge, with her Grace and Mrs. Eden 
in Sackville Street. My aunt sends me with a message 
to Miss Eden. 

Sophy. 
[Confused.] M — m — Miss Eden? 

Quex. 
Mrs. Eden has proposed a lunch at Prince's, provided 

that Miss Eden feels equal to [Looking about him 

again.] Where is Miss Eden? 

Sophy. 
Where? 

Quex. 
She is here — with you. 

Sophy. 
N — no. 

Quex. 

No? 

Sophy. 
[With a gulp-] I haven't seen anything of her. 

Quex. 
[In an altered tone.] Really? 

[166] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
No. 

Q U E X .' 

[Calmly.] Strange. 

[He walks away and joins Frayne. Sophy 
stealthily closes and fastens the window.] 

Quex. 
[In a lozu voice, to Frayne.] Chick 

Frayne. 
Eh? 

Quex. 
Miss Eden is here. Why is the Fullgarney telling me 
this falsehood? 

Frayne. 
You will remember I was positive she would sell you 
before she'd done with you. 

Quex. 
[Gripping Frayne' s arm.] Don't! [Advancing to 
Sophy — politely.] I understood from my aunt, Miss 
Fullgarney, that her ladyship left Miss Eden at Gres- 
sier's, the jeweller's, less than half an hour ago. 

Sophy. 
[Fussing zvith the objects upon the cabinet and the 
manicure table.] Oh? 

Quex. 
Miss Eden had some little commission to discharge at 
Gressier's, and intended coming across to you immedi- 
ately afterward. 

Sophy. 
[Quickly.] Ah, then she hasn't finished her business 
at Gressier's yet. 

Quex. 
Yes, because I looked in at the shop on my way here. 

r i6 ~ i 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
Funny. I can't imagine where she's taken herself to. 

Q u e x . 
[Earnestly.] Miss Fullgarney 



Sophy. 
My lord ? 

Q u e x . 
I thought we had become good friends, you and I ? 

Sophy. 
So we have, I hope. 

Quex. 
And that you were desirous of rendering me a service ? 

Sophy. 
Well, aren't I, my lord? 

Quex. 
Are you? You know that Miss Eden came to you di- 
rectly she left Gressier's. You know she did. 

Sophy. 
[After a pause — drawing a deep breath.] Yes, I — I 
own it. 

Quex. 
[Reproachfully.] Ah, Miss Fullgarney! 

Sophy. 
She has been in, and I have done you the service I 
promised. 

Quex. 
[Calmly.] You have? 

Sophy. 

Indeed I have, as true as I stand here. [Steadying 

herself.] But the fact is — the fact is Miss Eden had a 

purchase to make that she didn't wish the ladies to 

interfere over, and — and she has run out for ten minutes. 

[168] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

If your lordship must know where she is, she's in the 
Burlington. 

Quex. 
[ Very quietly. ] Oh, she has run out for a few minutes ? 

Sophy. 
She might be a quarter of an hour. 

Quex. 
Not run out ; flown out, at one of these windows. 

Sophy. 
[Faintly.] One of these windows? 

Quex. 
[Pointing to the entrance.] She has not gone out by 
the door. 

Sophy. 
What do you mean? 

Quex. 
Your young ladies assured me just now that Miss 
Eden was in this room with you. [Frayne, possessed 
of an idea, has gone to the door in the partition. He now 
raps at the door gently.] No, no, Chick — please! we 
are not policemen. 

Frayne. 
[Opening the door a few inches.] Miss Eden, I regret 
to learn you are suffering from headache. 

Sophy. 
[Indignantly.] Well, of all the liberties ! 

Quex. 
[Angrily. ] Frayne ! 

Frayne. 

May I tell you of an unfailing remedy ? [He peeps 

into the private room, then withdraws his head, and says 
to Quex:] No. 

[169] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Sophy. 
[Flouncing up to Frayne, and speaking volubly and 
violently.] Now, look here, sir, I'm a busy woman — 
as busy and as hard-working a woman as any in London. 
Because you see things a bit slack Ascot week, it doesn't 
follow that my books, and a hundred little matters, don't 
want attending to. [Sitting at the desk and opening and 
closing the books noisily.] And I'm certainly not going 
to have gentlemen, whoever they may be, marching into 
my place, and taking possession of it, and doubting my 
word, and opening and shutting doors, exactly as if they 
were staying in a common hotel. I'd have you to know 
that my establishment isn't conducted on that principle. 

[Quex has been standing, zvith compressed lips 
and a frown upon his face, leaning upon the 
back of the chair near the circular table. Dur- 
ing Sophy's harangue his eyes fall upon the 
jezvellcrs case and the scrap of paper lying 
open upon it. He stares at the writing for a 
moment, then comes to the table and picks up 
both the case and the paper.] 

Frayne. 
[To Sophy, while this is going on.] My good lady, a 
little candor on your part 

Sophy. 
I don't understand what you're hinting at by " a little 
candor." You've already been told where Miss Eden is, 
and anybody who knows me knows that if I say a 

thing 

Frayne. 
But when your young ladies declare 

Sophy. 
I'm really not responsible for the sayings and doings 
of a parcel of stupid girls. If they didn't see Miss Eden 

[ I/O] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

go out they were asleep, and if they weren't asleep they're 
blind ; and as I've explained till I'm hoarse, I'm very 
busy this morning, and I should be extremely obliged to 
you two gentlemen if you'd kindly go away and call again 
a little later. 

Q u e x . 
Chick. 

Frayne. 
Eh? 

Quex. 
I want you. 

[Frayne comes to Quex, who hands him the 
jeweller's case and the slip of paper.] 
Sophy. 
[Fussing over her books, oblivious of what is trans- 
piring.] As if the difficulty of conducting a business 
of this kind isn't sufficient without extra bothers and 
worries being brought down on one's head ! What with 
one's enormous rent, and rotten debts, it's heartbreaking ! 
Here's a woman here, on my books, who runs an account 
for fifteen months, with the face of an angel, and no more 
intends to pay me than to jump over St. Paul's 

Quex. 

[Who again has possession of the jeweller's case and 
the paper.] Miss Fullgarney 

Sophy. 
What now, my lord? Upon my word, it is too 
bad ! 

Please come here. 



Quex 



Sophy. 
[Coming forzvard — nozu on the verge of tears.] After 
such a night as I've had, too. I never could do without 
my full eight hours 

Quex. 
Be silent ! 

[ I7i] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
What! 

Q U EX . 

Miss Eden and Captain Bastling 

Sophy. 
Eh? 

Q U E X . 

They are acquaintances — friends. [IVith a stamp of 
the foot.] They are on terms of 

Sophy. 
[Faintly.] Oh! 

Q U E X . 

[Pointing to the window.] She is with him at this 
moment — there. 

Sophy. 

[Unsteadily.] Whatever are you saying, my lord? 
[Discovering that he has the jezvellcr's case and the 
paper.] Ah ! 

Q u e x . 
Yes, I found these upon the table. [She advances, to 
take them from him.] Miss Eden left them here — forgot 
them ? 

Sophy. 
[In a murmur.] Yes. 

[He gives them to her. She puts them into her 
pocket and sits.] 

Quex. 
Come ! tell me. 

Sophy. 

You — you are not the only one in the field, my lord. 

Quex. 
So I conclude. 

Sophy. 
Have pity on her! 

[ 172] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Quex. 
[Sternly.] How dare you ! 

Sophy. 
It's more my fault than hers. 

Quex. 
Continue. 

Sophy. 
She has wanted to stop it, hating herself for being de- 
ceitful, but I — I've encouraged her, egged her on. 

Quex. 
Yes. 

Sophy. 
They've been in the habit of meeting here at my place. 

Quex. 
[Again pointing to the window.] In this fellow's 
rooms — Mr. Valma's 

Sophy. 
[Rising.] No, no. They've never met there, till this 
morning. But he — young Bastling — he's going away, 
abroad, in a fortnight or so, and he wished to say good-by 
to her quietly. 

Quex. 
[Turning toward the ivindow -fiercely.] Ah ! 

Sophy. 
[Laying her hand upon his arm.] Be careful, my 
lord! 

Quex. 
[Looking at her.] Careful ? 

Sophy. 
[Significantly.] I know how she feels to-day. If you 
want to send her to Hong-Kong with Captain Bast- 
ling 

[Quex hesitates for a moment, then crosses to 
Frayne, to whom he speaks apart.] 

[173] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Quex. 
Chick ! how shall I act ? 

F R A Y n e . 
[Dismally.] Dear old chap, to be quite honest with 
you, I was not wholly captivated by Miss Eden when you 
presented me yesterday. 

Quex. 
Tshah! What shall I do? wait? 

Frayne. 
In any event, of course, the man's head has to be 
punched. But it might be wise to delay doing it until 

Quex. 
[To Sophy.] You spoke, a little while ago, of giving 
me " a chance." I see now what was in your mind. 
There's a risk, then, that this good-by may not be final? 

Sophy. 
[Stammeringly.] W — well, I 

Quex. 
[Sharply.] Eh? 

Sophy. 

[Breaking doivn.) Oh, my lord, recollect, she's not 
much more than a girl ! 

Quex. 

No, she is not much more than a girl ; but you — 
though you and she are of the same age — yon are a 
woman. You know your world, upstairs and down- 
stairs, boudoir and kitchen. Yet you own you have en- 
couraged her in this, made her clandestine meetings with 

this penniless beggar possible. You ! you deserve 

to be whipped, Miss Fullgarney — whipped ! 

Sophy. 
[Facing him.] Come, my lord ! not so fast ! After all, 
remember, Captain Bastling may be poor, but he's Miss 
Eden's match in other ways. 

[174] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Quex. 
Match? 

Sophy. 

Young, and good-looking. Oh, and isn't it natu- 
ral ? 

Quex. 

Quite natural — quite. [Turning to Frayne.] Chick, 
what an ass I've been ; what fools we old chaps are, all 
of us ! Why, if I had led the life of a saint, it would 
only be necessary for a man like this Bastling to come 
along, to knock me out. Good lord, how clear it is, when 
it's brought home to you in this fashion ! It isn't the 
scamp, the roue, a girl shies at ; it's the old scamp, the 
old roue. She'll take the young one, the blackguard with 
a smooth skin and a bright eye, directly he raises a hand 
— take him without a murmur, money-hunter though he 
may be. Take him ! by Jove, she leaps into his arms ! 

Frayne. 
D'ye mean that Bastling ? 

Quex. 
Napier Bastling! [Breaking into a prolonged peal of 
laughter.] Ha, ha, ha, ha! Chick, he's just what / was 
at eight-and-twenty. Ha, ha, ha ! what I was — and 
worse, damn him ! — and she loves him. 

Sophy. 
[Who has been listening with wide-open eyes and 
parted lips.] It's not true ! it isn't true! 

Quex. 
[Turning to her.] Isn't it! You think so, hey? No, 
I suppose you haven't experimentalized upon him; you 
haven't spied on him, and tempted him as you tempted 
me. You have never got him into a quiet corner and stuck 
your impudent face in his. If you had 

[175] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 

Oh ! he wouldn't ! 

[Frayne has walked away; Quex now joins 
him.] 

Quex. 
[As he goes.] Wouldn't he! ha, ha, ha! [To 
Frayne, fiercely.] What the devil am I to do, Chick? 



Frayne 



Punch his head. 



Sophy. 

[Panting.] Oh! oh! [Bastling, indistinctly seen 
through the muslin blinds, appears at the window. He 
raps gently upon the window frame. Sophy glances at 

the window.] Eh ? [Under her breath.] Oh! 

[She goes swiftly to Quex and Frayne, seizes them by 
the arms, and pushes them toward the door in the parti- 
tion, saying agitatedly:] Wait there! don't come out, or 

make a noise 

Quex. 

What are you up to now ? 

Sophy. 
Stay here till I find out what's happened. Oh, I'll do 
what I can for you ! 

[They enter the private room and she closes the 
door. Then she returns to the window, un- 
fastens it, and retreats. Bastling pushes 
open the windozv and comes in.] 

Bastling. 
[Advancing to her excitedly.] Ah, Sophy! [Looking 
round.] Anyone about? 

Sophy. 
[Pointing to the left.] All my girls are in there. 
Where is she? 

[i 7 6] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Bastling. 
Next door. She's sitting down, calming herself — hav- 
ing her cry out. 

Sophy. 
Crying ! 

Bastling. 
She's all right — awfully happy. I told her I'd come 
and tell you. 

Sophy. 
Tell me ! 

Bastling. 
It's settled. 

Sophy. 
Settled ! 

Bastling. 
She's mine, Sophy. 

Sophy. 
[ With a gasp. ] Yours ! 

Bastling. 
We're going to be married at once — next week. We 
shall need your help still. Of course, it must be a secret 
marriage. She will follow me out by-and-by. 

Sophy. 
[Nodding dully.] Oh, yes. 

Bastling. 
Why, aren't you glad about it? [Smilingly.] Don't 
you congratulate us ? 

Sophy. 
C — certainly. 

Bastling. 
Good. And — [shaking hands with her] thanks to you. 
[Releasing her hand.] Thanks. 

Sophy. 
[Nerving herself for her task.] Thanks! 

[ *77] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 

Bastling. 
A million of 'em. What's the matter? 

Sophy. 
Oh, nothing. 

Bastling. 
Yes, there is. Come, out with it. 

Sophy. 
Well — thanks! [Tossing her head.] There isn't much 
in thanks. 

Bastling. 
[Puzzled.] Not much in thanks? 

Sophy. 
[Turning azvay, pouting.] I think not. 

Bastling. 
[Smiling.] Oh, I know I owe a tremendous deal to 
the pretty manicurist, and I don't intend to forget it. 
Just now I'm rather hard-up [glancing toivard the win- 
dow] but I shall be in funds before long 

Sophy. 
[ Turning to him with genuine indignation. ] Oh ! 

Bastling. 
What do you want, then? 

Sophy. 
[After a moment's hesitation, sidling up to him.] Not 
money. 

Bastling. 
Not? 

Sophy. 
A little more than plain thanks though. 

Bastling. 
[Looking into her eyes, laughing softly.] Ha, ha, ha! 
[ 178] 



THE GAY LORD £>UEX 

Soi'HY. 

[Slyly.] Ha, ha, ha! 

Basiling. 

Thanks — differently expressed ? [She plays with 

the lapel of his coat and giggles. He takes her chin in 
his hand.] Ha, ha, ha! Sophy! 

Sophy. 
Ha, ha! 

[Muriel appears at the open window and enters 
the room noiselessly. Seeing Bastling and 
Sophy together, she halts in surprise.] 

Bastling. 
[IV hose back is to the window.] I say — mind, no tales. 

Sophy. 
[Looking at Muriel steadily over Bastling's shoul- 
der.] Likely I'd split on you, isn't it? 

Bastling. 
Honor bright ? 

Sophy. 

Oh, if you've any doubt 

[He raises her face to his and kisses her upon 
the lips warmly and lingeringly. She goes 
back a step or tivo, still gazing fixedly at 
Muriel.] 



Bastling. 



Eh- 



[Following the direction of her eyes, he turns 
and encounters Muriel. The three stand for 
a moment or two without movement.] 

Bastling. 
[After the pause, speaking in a low voice, his eyes 
avoiding Muriel's.] Well — ha! — I suppose every man 
makes a big mistake at least once in his life. I've made 

[ 179] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

mine. At the same time, I — I — [hurriedly] — oh, I'll 
write. 

[With a slight, quick bow to Muriel, he wheels 
round sharply and goes out.] 

Sophy. 
[Wiping his kiss from her lips.] The wretch! the 
wretch! [The door-gong sounds.] 

Muriel. 

[Covering her eyes with her hand and uttering a low 

moan.] Oh ! 

Sophy. 

[Hanging her head.] You see, darling, yesterday at 
Fauncey Court, I — I tried it on with Lord Quex, and 
he behaved like a gentleman. So the notion struck me 
that I'd treat the young man in the same way, just to see 
what he was made of, and — well, I'm glad you came in. 
You might never have believed me. 

Muriel. 
[In a hard voice.] The shirt-stud — the stuff I wrote 
— I left them with you 

Sophy. 
[Producing them.] I found them after you'd gone. 

[Muriel takes the piece of paper and tears it 
into small pieces. Sophy offers her the jewel- 
ler's case.] 

Muriel. 
[Haughtily.] Take that back to Gressier's this after- 
noon, please, and tell them I've changed my mind. Say 
I'll have a little silver collar for my dog, in its place. 

[She sinks into the screen-chair, with her eyes 
closed. Slipping the case into her pocket, 
Sophy tip-toes up to the door in the partition; 
she opens it and beckons to Quex, who ap- 
pears with Frayne.] 
[180] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Sophy. 
[To Quex, in a whisper.] Phsst! It's all nicely 
settled. She's said good-by to him for good. What a fuss 
you made about nothing! 

[She points to the screen-chair ; he approaches 
Muriel. Sophy and Frayne talk together.] 

Quex. 
[Softly.] Muriel 

Muriel. 
[ Opening her eyes, startled. ] Quex ! 

Quex. 
[Brightly.] I came up to town this morning with Sir 
Chichester. We've just met Aunt Julia, and the rest of 
'em, in Sackville Street. Mrs. Jack clamors for lunch at 
Prince's. What do you say? 

Muriel. 
[Passing her hand across her eyes.] Thanks. It'll be 
jolly. 

Quex. 

[Gayly.] Ah! 

Muriel. 
[Laying her hand upon his sleeve.] Quex 

Quex. 
Eh? 

Muriel. 
[Rising, and speaking in a lozv, appealing voice.] Give 
me your word you have been loyal to me, down to your 
very thought, since our engagement. 

Quex. 
[Earnestly.] Muriel, I 

Muriel. 
Hush! [Giving him her hand.] I believe you. [The 
door-gong sounds.] And, look here! I haven't been 

[181 ] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

quite fair, or generous, to you, I am afraid. But I am 
going to be different 

Quex. 
After to-day ! 

Muriel. 
From this moment. Harry 



Hey: 



Quex 



Muriel. 
I won't keep you till the end of the year. Marry me, 
and have done with it, directly the season is over, and 
take me away. 

Quex. 

[Bending over her hand.] Good heavens ! 

[Miss Limbird holds the portiere aside and admits 
Lady Owbridge, the Duchess of Strood, and Mrs. 
Eden. Miss Limbird then returns to her desk. Quex 
goes to Lady Owbridge, takes her arm, and leads her 
forzvard.] Aunt Julia! aunt! my dear Aunt Julia! 

[The Duchess joins Frayne. Mrs. Eden 
conies to Muriel and receives the news of the 
hastened marriage. Sophy moves away to 
the zvindozv.] 

Quex . 
[Excitedly, to Lady Owbridge.] Oh, my dear aunt! 

Lady Owbridge. 
What ails you, Henry? 

Quex. 
Muriel ! she — she — she's going to marry me ! 

Lady Owbridge. 
I hope so. 

Quex. 
But at the end of the Season ! a month hence ! a month, 
a month, a month ! 

[182] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Lady O w b r i d g e . 
My dear boy ! Heaven prosper your union ! Mu- 
riel 

Mrs. Eden. 
[To Lady Owbridge.] Isn't this glorious news, Lady 
Owbridge? But I always thought it unwise to protract 
the engagement. You never know what may happen, do 

you ? I must tell the dear Duchess 

[She joins the Duchess and Frayne, and chat- 
ters to them.] 

Lady Owbridge. 
[To Muriel, in a low voice.] Muriel, you are right. 
In this life, if you have anything to pardon, pardon 
quickly. Slow forgiveness is little better than no for- 
giveness. 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Coming to Quex.] Congratulate you. 

Quex. 
Thanks. 

[Lady Owbridge moves away, joining the 

Duchess, as Mrs. Eden returns to Muriel.] 

Mrs. Eden. 
[Kissing Muriel.] You sensible girl! 

[Frayne comes to Quex.] 

F r a y n e . 
[To Quex, mournfully.] Old chap, this is shockingly 
sudden. 

Quex. 
Ha, ha ! 

Frayne. 
However, we must contrive, you and I, to pass one 
more evening together before the event. 

Quex. 

One ! many ! 

[183] 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

F R A Y N E . 

No, no, I mean a buster, Harry; a regular night of 



Quex. 
Good lord ! go away ! 

[Mrs. Eden joins Lady Owbridge as Frayne 
advances to Muriel.] 

Frayne. 
[Taking Muriei/s hand.] Dear young lady, you are 
about to become the wife of one of the best. There are 
not many of us left ; we are a dwindling band, Miss 

Eden 

[The Duchess comes to Quex.] 

Duchess. 
[To Quex, softly.] Sincere congratulations. [He 
boivs stiffly.] At any time, you know, when you return 

to England 

Quex. 
[Eying her sternly. ] Yes ? 

Duchess. 
After your honeymoon 

Quex. 
Yes? 

Duchess. 
Should you feel ennuyc 

Quex. 
I! ^ 

Duchess. 
The air at Burwarton never failed to exhilarate you. 
So pray do not forget 

Quex. 
[Indignantly.] Duchess! 

[ 184 1 



THE GAY LORD QUEX 

Duchess. 
[Sweetly.] That poor dear Strood would be pleased 
to see you. [Frayne joins Lady Owbridge and Mrs. 
Eden as the Duchess advances to Muriel.] Dear Miss 
Eden, may your married life be as beautiful, as serene, as 
my own ! 

Muriel. 
[Frankly.] Thank you, Duchess. 

Lady Owbridge. 
We shall be a happy party at luncheon. Shall we go, 

Duchess? Muriel — Henry [Quex joins Muriel. 

Sophy is eying Muriel zvistfally. Miss Limbird holds 
the portiere aside, to allozv the visitors to pass out.] 
Good-morning, Miss Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 
Good-morning, my lady. 

Duchess. 
Miss Fullgarney 

Sophy. 
Good-by, your Grace. 

[The Duchess and Lady Owbridge go out.] 

Frayne. 
[Following them with Mrs. Eden.] Good-day, Miss 
Fullgarney. 

Sophy. 
Good-day, sir. 

Mrs. Eden. 
Morning, Sophy. 

Sophy. 

Morning, Mrs. Eden. 

[Frayne and Mrs. Eden go out.] 

Quex. 
[Follozving them with Muriel.] Good-morning, 
Miss Fullgarney. 

[185] 



THE GAY LORD gUEX 



Vn 



Sophy. • 
[Blankly.] G — good-morning, my lord. [Quex and 
Muriel go out, followed by Miss Limbird. Sophy 
stands aghast, her bosom heaving.] Oh! oh! oh! [The 
door-gong sounds. Pollitt appears at the window. 
Sophy is wringing her hands. ] Oh ! 

Pollitt. 
[Entering.] My love! what's the matter? 

Sophy. 
She — she's left me, without a word! 

Pollitt. 
She? 

Sophy. 
Muriel — without so much as wishing me good-morn- 
ing. [With a sob.] Oh! when I've done what I can for 
everybody ! 

[The portiere is pulled aside and Muriel re- 
turns, unaccompanied, and comes to Sophy's 
side swiftly. ] 

Muriel. 
[To Sophy.] Forgive me. You did it for the best. 
[Kissing her.] I'm sorry 

Sophy. 
[Throwing her arms round Muriel's neck.] Oh! my 
darling ! [Muriel runs out. Sophy goes to Pol- 
litt and drops her head upon his breast, rest fully.] Ah! 
that's all right. [The door-gong sounds finally.] 



the end. 






[186] 



